#shattered flames; burning crystals

[achromaticsremixture]

shattered flames

every step breaks the prewritten narrative of your story for me and with every crack, i spiral, further and further into lucifer’s domain, away from your seraphic mansion the angels say, you don’t belong, freak and i believe, that i,  am no longer human. 

encased in the ice of time is me to change and to grow; to be human is what you do  frozen as i am, can you call me a true member of this rat race?  defined by my past; imprisoned by my future so tell me, honestly,  am i qualified for humanity? 

flames lick at the heels of my shoes and iridescent flickers eat away at the glass that forms, at the glass that flies away, at the simplest touch, and  transfixed, at the sight, i  am amazed? 

crystallisation is a beautiful sight, and  i appreciate every single part of it and your words form memories, of times long lost, and  i can’t help but let tears fall

and all at once, the flames turn to glass blue and pink swirling idly in a mosaic of laughter wind chimes ringing over wood smelling of cedar phrases fly by, and quotes that hold value shape me, and for once, i feel that i  deserve to be human. 

[ornii]

Arcane, Chapter 4: Things have changed, you? No..

The endless darkness had been inviting for so long, but finally there is a chance to return.

Sitting on a floating island upon the endless cosmos, (Y/n) was still alive, years had passed, he had grown. Mastering the crystal that exploded and had infused his body with this unstable power.

Standing at the edge of the island, covered in rags and robes, he extended his metal arm, sigils etched into the rusted metal hummed blue energy and began to shake, evoking what power his body had, the fabric of the world itself began to warp at a disturbing rate. It was trying to tear itself back to the real world, but no avail. The blue light fizzled and he slumped down exhausted, he punched the ground out of more frustration itself, and escape so far away, until the darkness begin to crackle with blue electricity, a large amount of energy was being used, somewhere. It didn’t matter, it was time.

(Y/n) stood up and put his hand in the air, he begins to use said energy, opening his arm up like a lighting rod, as the electricity stuck his arm, his eyes begin to shift to a soaring bright blue, power surged further and further until his arm was shaking, barely containing the energy like a bottle about to burst, with one movement, he then threw his hand forward, the force made a shockwave of energy so intense it made a small but visible tear, into a laboratory. it didn’t matter where, just not here.. (Y/n) leapt into it without hesitation, his body felt the rush of light, pressure and heat, and swiftly landed on the ground of a cool laboratory.

Placing his feet on the cold floor (Y/n) looked around, his eyes dimly lit by the light, he saw two men, stunned by his arrival, it’s obvious he’s still in Piltover. If he’s back, then he only has one goal, find powder and Vi, turning to the large glass window he extended his arm and the energy began to gather once more, with a single snap of his finger, he blasted another shockwave of blue energy hits the glass and shattered it, he leapt out of the window, regardless of how far the fall is, and it was far, as he fell he slammed his hand into the wall and began to slow his descent scarring the tower he slowed down and leapt into the waters, taking him away to hide in piltover.

Gasping for air, he washes up near the sewer pipe leading down to piltover, before he can be swept up he gripped the platform above and pulled himself up next to the pipe, and rested, seeing the blue sky, vibrant colors, finally. Leaning against the pipe, he fell asleep for hours. His eyes open to the smell of smoke, something was burning, his eyes dart upwards to the smoke rising further in Piltover. He rushed to the location, flames consume a tent, blazing. His eyes quickly shifted to the drawing made of the fire into the tent, it was a monkey, just like.. Powders.

“Is… is that?” He stepped closer, deep rooted memories began to replay, fear, anger and frustration all began to flow once more, but the coughing of a woman caught him off guard. He peered in and saw her, on the ground, flames around her. With little hesitation he ran in, he saw a wooden beam had fallen upon her chest, He gripped the beam with his arm and hurled it off and put the woman on his shoulders and ran with her out of the fire. Lying her on the ground he looked her up and down, besides the smoke and slight burns, she’ll be fine. She was dressed as an officer, Footsteps storm near his direction and he can assume the others are here. (Y/n) ran off, leaving the woman to be tended by the officers.

That woman, was Caitlyn, Lady of House Kiramman. The next morning came and She was knelling down. looking at a board of plans, all sticking together to a singular goal -a goal she just hasn’t been able to piece together, twirling a pistol she overlooks them, and hears a shuffling behind her.

“I said leave me, Jayce.” She sounded upset, and when the figure didn’t reply, she quickly turned around and aimed her gun, it was (Y/n), reading the note from the large bouquet of flowers. “To Lady Kiramman.” He said, and turned his hooded face to her.

“Who are you? How did you get it?” She demanded to know, (Y/n) calmly turned to face her, “Your windows, and could you please put you gun down? If I wanted you dead I would have let you die in that tent.” He said, and Cait was caught off guard.

“It was.. you.” She huffed, (Y/n) nodded. “Yes, you were investigating it, I want to help.”

“And why should I believe that?”

“Saving your life wasn’t enough?” He replied, and sighed, “The man you’re looking for is part of Silco’s gang. Probably using the explosives someone I know…” he said, and it began to piece together.

“I've suspected there is a single mind

behind the undercity's violence…I think whoever attacked the square

is our suspect.” Cait lowered her gun and showed him the display she had, all plans link together.

“The same symbols showed up at the botched smuggling operation at the Hexgates.”

“The Hexgates?” He had no idea what that was.

“Keep up.” She points to the maps dark end.

“All this time, they've kept their dealings

localized to the undercity. Low priority. The attack on the square changes things. They've overstepped. If I can figure who made the explosives, it could lead me directly to whoever's behind it all. The answer is here, staring me in the face.” Cat droned on, and (Y/n) smugly folds his arms.

“I guess that would be me..” (Y/n) walked over, and knelt down to look at the map. “It’s been a while since I was there, but I can remember a few faces.. especially ones that work with Silco, if what you’re saying is true.. we find the guy, and.. “chat” with him.

(Y/n) made the offer and extended his metal arm. “(Y/n)” he said, Cait reluctantly shook the cool metal hand.

“..Caitlyn, and fine, but you are going dressed like that, and you reek.”

“I haven’t taken a decent shower in years..” he said, Cait folds her arms as well. “Then you’re going to, and get a new assortment of clothes, my father could spare some, you look to fit the size. Cait took his hood off and she got a good look at his face, half of it had a scar along from the eyebrow down to his lip. His eye now glistening like a crystal is behind it. Cait was quickly surprised and stepped back. “I’m sorry I didn’t—“

“Don’t worry about it, where your shower or whatever.” He put his hood back on, Cait lead him to it, without her parents knowing of course.

Now dressed in a more casually style, ankle high boots, thick leather leggings and a button up navy blue shirt and vest combo, he tops it off with a black tie and overcoat, taking a single glove he puts it on his metal arm to avoid suspicion. Cait peers into the room.

“Done? We have to go..” she saw him in the moonlight, the way his eyes shine so beautifully, he nods, “yeah.. let’s go.”

Standing before the warden, (Y/n) kept his hood on and allowed Cait to speak.

“I need to speak with one of the inmates.” She said, the Warden at the desk looked them up and down, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, folks in here aren't usually very talkative…” he said, scribbling on his paper

“This one was hit by friendly fire. He's got reason to talk. Must have been sent in today?” She asked and he thought.

“Oh. Inmate 2135. Yeah, I'm, uh, afraid that's not possible.” He admits, (Y/n)’ jerked his head up to the Warden.

“Why not?” (Y/n) asked, the Warden looks at his papers, and taps on one.

“Uh, well, there's been...an incident.” He said, Cait and (Y/n) glance at each other and then back to him.

“What kind of incident?” Caitlyn asks.

“The...not so pretty kind.”

“You don't understand, we have to talk to him.” Caitlyn attempts to use some form of reason with the warden, whose hands were tied.

“Oh, you'll be able to. As soon as he can move his jaw again.” He replied, and (Y/n) thought, “this guy… he just got to the prison, couldn’t have made any enemies, so who did it must have known…” (Y/n) grasped what his brain was trying to relay.. whoever attacked the man must have known who he already was.. one of Silco’s men.”

“Who assaulted him?” (Y/n) asked. And the Warden could oblige with that.

The Duo entered the cell block and calmly but carefully walked down the hall to the Cell of the assailant. Loud thuds echo down the hall, sounds like someone’s taking their frustrations out on someone, or something. The pounding grew closer and closer, until the final cell door it was beating with force. (Y/n) and Caitlyn reached the cell block, and the pink hair in the dim room said enough to who it is. (Y/n)’s eyes couldn’t believe it and leaned forward his face reaching the cell bars. Vi turned around, and looked at them both.

“…Who the hell are you?”

[eternallia]

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 (𝐦)

albedo x fem!reader

➽ fandom: genshin impact

➽ genre: mild angst (with happy ending), eventual smut, eventual fluff

➽ summary: After a painful breakup, you haven’t been the same. He left you shattered, unable to move on—but Albedo was there. He wanted to help, and maybe, he could.

➽ tags & warnings: infidelity (not from albedo), explicit language, lots of alchemy stuff, slow burn, self-doubt, healing and self discovery, porn with plot (or more like plot with porn), smut: praising, teasing, breast play, cunnilungus, fingering, rough sex, pet names, unprotect sex, albedo changes when he has sex

➽ word count: 14k

note: after three years i finally wrote something again. sorry in advance, there's a lot of alchemy talk and stuff and i'm not an expert haha. still, i hope you like it!

The air in Dragonspine was frigid and biting, and the sound of the wind resonated with the walls of the campsite. Tears streaked down your cheeks, and they wouldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried. Months had passed since the truth came out, yet your heart refused to move on.

There was a time when you were the happiest. Every aspect of your life was in order, and all the time you spent working hard was finally rewarding you. That changed when a particular person disrupted your sense of self and brought chaos into your life.

You once felt loved, cherished, adored… It all crumbled when he confessed his lies and betrayal, and your world shattered.

So many women were his one and only, and only his sheets knew the depth of his deceits. He only confessed after his lover got pregnant and he had to wed her.

Months later, you looked at the mirror and wondered when you had let yourself go. You used to be perceptive; you were smart, and you never allowed feelings to cloud your thinking.

Yet, where had that perceptive side of you gone?

You couldn’t remember the moment when you became so naive. All those lies, the half-truths, the changes, and his sudden distance were now crystal clear to you. Even so, you didn’t notice them when they were happening. Why?

Your past self would have never made this dumb mistake. There was a reason you were one of the assistants of the Chief Alchemist and Captain of the Investigation of the Knights of Favonius. Working for him was the biggest honor and compliment towards you and your work performance since Albedo rarely allowed himself to spend time with people.

“Wake up, y/n.” You mumbled to yourself while you cleaned your wet cheeks with a handkerchief.

While reorganizing the mess you made on the desk, you came across the cause for your emotional breakdown: your ex’s letter. After admitting his betrayal, he begged you to forgive him and tried to convince you that you still could be together. There was no explanation as to why he thought that was possible, and despite your continuous rejections and refusals to see or talk to him, he wouldn’t give up.

That’s the reason why you had his letter. He delivered a letter every single day to your workplace. Days like today, when you would work in Dragonspine, he would make sure you got them one way or another. 

He had no shame. He lied, he cheated, and he took you for granted. Every single person in Mondstadt knew what he did to you, and he still had the audacity to beg for you to listen to him, to give him another chance.

You took the letter in your hands and read it one last time. Holding the letter over the candle’s flame, you watched the corner catch fire and begin to burn.

Wouldn’t it be good if the fire could burn your sadness too?

With one last look at the letter, you threw it away and let it burn. The wind would take care of the ashes, not you.

Albedo could arrive at any moment, and you needed to arrange the campsite so he could continue with his research. Moreover, you needed to fix yourself so he wouldn’t notice your emotional state. No matter how much trust you had in the chief, you will never forgive yourself if you disappoint him.

“Where did I leave my notebook?” You mumbled, deciding to finally focus on your job. 

Little did you know, Albedo had been watching you for a while. He had arrived some moments after you began crying and decided to wait until your emotional state improved before entering the campsite. He thought it would be best to not let his presence be known, but for some reason he remained close and observed how your inner turmoil destroyed your emotional stability.

He understood that tears were a response from the lacrimal glands, usually provoked by intense injuries or emotions. He noticed the redness surrounding your eyes, a clear indication that you had been crying. Albedo had known you for a long time, and he had never seen you display such behavior. As his assistant, you had experienced various injuries from experiments or attacks, yet none had affected you like this.

This wasn’t a reaction caused by an injury; this was a deep emotional wound.

Albedo has witnessed people consumed in sadness before, but your tears resonated with him more deeply. Is it because he truly cares about your well-being, or is it because of the rarity and discomfort of seeing you in such a vulnerable state?

You were his assistant, and along with Sucrose, you were the only one capable of working alongside him. Over the years, you have proved not only your amazing assisting skills but also that you were an outstanding alchemist. Sometimes, even Albedo was pleasantly surprised at your capabilities.

Even if you didn’t notice it, Albedo had a very high and positive opinion of you.

He wasn’t oblivious to the recent events in your personal life; every time he visited Mondstadt, he could hear the whispers of citizens who openly discussed the details of your ex’s affairs. And even if you tried to hide it from him, he understood how challenging it was for you to move on with your life.

You have always been capable, reliable, and diligent. To see you undone like this was beyond his comprehension. It unsettled him.

Moments after you finished cleaning your mess and arranging the tools and materials Albedo was going to use for today’s work, you heard footsteps approaching the campsite. 

You looked up and saw him walking toward you.

“Good morning.” He greeted nonchalantly, “I see you’re already at work.”

“Good morning, Mr. Albedo. I just finished organizing the materials.” You tried to not look at him so he wouldn’t see your eyes, but you just couldn’t hide yourself from him.

Albedo, the Chief Alchemist, was an enigmatic man, just what one would expect from someone in such a prestigious position. His teal eyes had a sharpness that seemed to see through everything and everyone, including you. He was precise, calm, and methodical—qualities you once found intimidating but now respected. Handsome too, in an almost otherworldly way. 

There was a time your eyes lingered a little too long on the curve of his smile, many years back. 

He was your mentor and colleague, the person you admire the most.

Still, you panicked when your eyes met. And you just knew he saw the redness in your eyes.

“Did something happen?” Albedo politely inquired as he walked towards his desk, searching for his research notebook.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I've just had a lot on my mind lately.” You said, attempting to deflect the question in hopes he wouldn’t press for more.

“I see.” Albedo acknowledged as he grabbed a pen to begin his notes. Though you couldn't see it, a faint show of concern was etched on his brow.

You let out a sigh of relief, hoping he wouldn't pry further. You weren’t sure if he didn’t notice your emotional state or just decided to ignore it, but you were grateful for the lack of comments.

Albedo observed what you had prepared on the alchemist’s table and looked over the notes of the experiment. Everything was properly organized and ready to use, just as always. The only difference was a barely visible wet patch, proof of your earlier cry. He thought the wisest thing to do would be to keep quiet about it.

“Let’s start with the samples of the Frostglaze Crystals; let’s see what kind of information we can discover by analyzing its components.”

“Understood, Mr. Albedo.”

And so you began your experiment of the day. Recently, a group of adventurers decided to participate in an expedition to the depths of The Chasm. There were doubts of their success, but they surprised everyone with their return. Some of the members of the expedition worked in the Investigation Team of The Knights of Favonius and gave many samples and materials to the team. As the chief, Albedo decided to do some research on some of them.

As the experiment progresses, you are in charge of measuring and checking the ingredients, taking notes of everything, and handing Albedo everything he needs. He ordered; you did it. He needed something; you delivered. It was a mechanical process you had already mastered in your years working at his side.

But it seemed like today wasn't your day.

You were nervous, and your mind occasionally wandered to memories of your ex or the contents of the letter he sent you today. For some reason, you had managed to help Albedo directly so he could focus on his task, but more than once you forgot to write down information about the experiment.

Focus, y/n. You need to focus.

The results of this experiment could be a chance to discover its original form, and with it, its origins. You couldn’t make any mistakes. 

So why did your mind keep remembering when your ex ventured to Dragonspine—without a vision—to bring you your bag of supplies you had forgotten in his house the night prior? His legs trembling, his rapid breathing, and his shocked expression after barely escaping from a Hilichurl. 

You had never felt so scared, but so taken care of at the same time. He seemed so devoted to you. He was so caring. But your heart broke a little more when you did the math and realized he was already lying to you that time.

With a wobbling lip and your vision clouding, you failed to see that you poured too much of the aetherial distillate in the flask, and it overflowed. The crystal-clear liquid fell onto the open bottle of Luminis Essence and provoked an uncontrollable emission of colored smoke. You involuntarily inhaled the smoke and felt a burning sensation in your nose that caused you to cough violently. 

You didn't even have time to react before Albedo quickly took control.

He neutralized the smoke by encapsulating the flask with geo crystals and moving it outside of the campsite. The remaining smoke quickly disappeared with the help of Dragonspine’s winds. 

“Mistakes happen. There’s nothing that can’t be fixed.” Albedo said in a calm tone, almost soothing, when he returned to the campsite.

Yet you didn’t believe it. What if that smoke put your health at risk? In all your years working as an alchemist, you have never messed up this bad. What was worse, you had never committed a mistake in front of Albedo, never. And now, you had luck; it was just smoke. What if it was an explosion? What would you have done if there had been an explosion? What would have happened if you had ruined the experiment?

This wasn’t like you.

There must be something wrong with you.

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Albedo…” Your voice was shaking, and your hands trembled. “I should’ve been more careful. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Tears welling up in your eyes.

Albedo remained silent for a few seconds, which made you feel worse than you already did. Then he finally spoke.

“Perfection doesn’t exist, particularly in alchemy. Errors are not only unavoidable but also part of the process. And often, these so-called ‘mistakes’ produce extraordinary outcomes.” His voice was soft and comforting.

For a second time in the day, there were tears streaming down your cheeks. You wanted them to stop, to hide them from Albedo, but you couldn’t do it. The disappointment swelling in your chest was a reminder of your failures—to Albedo, to your work, and most importantly, to yourself.

“You’ve been going through a complicated period in your life; don’t blame yourself for being human.” Albedo reassured gently, but it did little to soothe your guilt.

You sobbed while hearing his words. Albedo stood by your side, offering consolation, and you found yourself torn between chastising yourself for needing his comfort and wholeheartedly enjoying it. Little did you know, those words were what you needed to hear.

“I’m so, so sorry.” You managed to say between sobs, your tears blurring Albedo’s face.

He remained silent. Albedo turned his back on you and began cleaning the workstation and conceded some time to yourself, which you spent trying to calm yourself down. His mind raced with thoughts about what had just happened and what he should do now. You have been struggling internally and keeping everything from him, which makes him cautious about what he says. For some reason, he dislikes the situation.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally managed to compose yourself. As Albedo meticulously organized and cleaned all the remains of the Frostglaze Crystal and your disaster, his movements were purposeful but silent.

“Why…?” You sniffled. Albedo raised his gaze to look at you. “Did I ruin the experiment?” You would never forgive yourself if you had done that.

“We will continue another time.” It was all he said about it, and before your mood soured once again, he continued. “There’s something more important we need to do, and I need your assistance.”

Confused, you approached the desk in which Albedo was placing some papers with some sketches and notes. You haven’t heard anything from him about a new research or experiment. In fact, you usually were the one who managed those things. Perhaps Albedo forgot to mention this experiment to you.

Albedo’s eyes glinted with excitement as he declared, “There’s an idea I had for a few months that I would like to develop.” Albedo glanced up from the desk that was now full of papers filled with different types of information and drawings.

“I want to create a new catalyst.” He continued. You inhaled sharply at what he said, astonished at what he said, but remained quiet and let him continue. “One that draws elemental energy more efficiently to the wielder. To achieve this, we must conduct extensive research, find the proper materials, and fully understand the science behind elemental flow.”

Albedo revealed his notes scattered across the desk, showcasing various minerals, metals, gems, and sketches of potential catalysts. It was one of the most ambitious ideas you had ever encountered.

It was no secret that Albedo was an ambitious man when talking about alchemy and what he desired to discover. Although the main goal for his continuous research remained a mystery, he always sought to uncover every single thing in Teyvat in order to find the truth he so desperately wanted.

However, creating a catalyst, an object whose mechanism was already well-defined, was not something you ever anticipated to do in your time as Albedo’s assistant.

No matter how you reacted to this situation, you were sure you did it wrong.

“That’s where you come in.” Albedo declared, his eyes still looking at you. 

You blinked in surprise, unsure if you had heard correctly. 

“What do you mean by that…?” Your voice faltered. There was no way he would want you in such a challenging project; you must have misinterpreted what he said. 

“I have worked alongside you long enough to see your capabilities and conclude your skills will be invaluable for this project.” He explained, his expression serene, contrasting sharply with your racing heart.

“You must be mistaken… Just a few minutes ago I was one substance away from creating a hazard.” He must have forgotten; it would explain why he was asking you this.

Albedo frowned at your words, and you almost regretted what you said. “I don’t appreciate the suggestion that I’m wrong when I’m not.” He said firmly. “I wouldn’t have invited you to participate if I didn’t believe in your abilities.” His gaze was unwavering. 

“I—” It was difficult to articulate an answer after that. “I’m sorry.”

You weren’t sure if your poor apology was directed to his words or to the lack of an appropriate answer.

However, could he really ignore your previous error and the disappointing performance you had in the past months? Although today was the first time you were at fault for committing such a mistake, you were sure you had been working poorly in comparison to the months prior to your breakup. Even though he kept quiet about it, you knew he noticed.

In your current state, it was difficult for you to understand why he had such a high opinion of you. If he needed support, Sucrose would be a much better option. Despite both of you being Albedo’s assistants, you took on a more administrative role while she often shared the same curiosity to experiment like Albedo did.

Albedo looked at you as you directed your gaze to the floor, shoulders slumped and fingers fidgeting. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, regretting his words.

Albedo took the sketch of an already existing catalyst and showed it to you. “This would be our starting point. We are not looking to create a catalyst from zero but a new type that is capable of enhancing the energy output and, if possible, autonomy. Alchemy should make it more efficient for the wielder’s elemental power.” 

It made sense to you. Creating a catalyst wouldn’t achieve anything besides a self-sense of accomplishment for understanding the mechanisms it had to function as a channel of elemental energy. Albedo’s purpose for this project would be to improve the already existing mechanisms for better performance or, ambitiously, infuse autonomous abilities.

“Exactly.” Albedo agreed with a subtle smirk. The sudden sound of his voice startled you; you didn’t notice you were speaking out loud.

You felt your cheeks heat up at the satisfied look Albedo gave you.

“Have you started this project already? Do you have a concept model?” 

“No, all of this here is already existing information of other catalysts and materials used for their fabrication. The idea I shared with you is something I had in my mind; maybe I have some notes in my notebook but nothing else.”

You hummed in response. Perhaps that was the reason why you hadn’t heard about this before.

You walked towards the desk to look at the information gathered. Crystal cores would help to stabilize the energy source, and the Cor Lapis could work as a solid base of the structure.

“The Whopperflower Nectar could help as an organic conductor of energy flow.” Albedo suggested while handing you a paper full of descriptions of the priorities of the nectar. 

You leaned in to grab the paper, and your shoulders brushed Albedo’s arm. Both of you noticed but remained quiet and continued discussing the possible components of the catalyst.

“So… What do you think?” Albedo asked. He meant if you were going to participate in this project. 

You were nervous, and there was a small amount of fear of you failing again. Due to the lies you discovered about your past relationship months after they happened, you didn’t trust yourself the way you used to. As a researcher, it hit you hard knowing you were incapable of figuring out the deceptions of your ex. Even though your job and your personal life were not related, you still view your situation as a consequence of your own uselessness.

Still, this project awakened something in you you hadn’t felt in a long time. Eagerness. 

You hesitated, a little unsure about your answer. “It sounds…challenging.”

“That’s the point. We’ll work through it together.” He encouraged; his eyes gleamed with excitement.

After a few seconds of silence, you finally nodded. “All right, let’s do it.” Your heartbeat drummed loudly.

For the past few days, you had been working on the project of designing a catalyst with Albedo. It seemed inefficient to continue working at the campsite in Dragonspine. It was Albedo’s favorite location to do his research since it provided the commodity only the lack of people could offer: quietude. However, for a project that promised extensive research and long work hours, constantly traveling to Dragonspine would be too tiresome and time-consuming.

As a result, Albedo and you settled in working in one of the alchemy labs inside of the Knights of Favonius Headquarters. It was the Chief Alchemist’s personal lab, one of the perks Albedo had as the chief. It was a big room, with bookshelves lined with tomes and research notes, a massive central worktable with a cauldron in the center, and some vials and scrolls.

The room was full of useful tools such as tubes, glass beakers, mortars, and pestles on every single surface you could see. However, you could still see Albedo’s influence in the lab. There were sketches pinned on the walls, some of formulas, others of Mondstadt and Dragonspine’ landscapes. You could even see some small wooden figurines in some corners.

As you progressed in your project, the space cluttered with the results of your research. Despite your excitement about the possibility of holding the end result of your work, there were steps that needed to be followed in order to achieve your final goal. First, you needed to conclude the theoretical outline of the catalyst. You were also doing some rough sketches and deciding the components it will have.

Over the course of this first step, your eagerness to work on the project grew each day, a rare spark of excitement that felt different from any other research. Yet, there was a lingering uncertainty that clung to you. Every time you made a move, you questioned yourself if you were truly capable of doing this. And no matter how much you wanted to believe otherwise, the hesitation never fully faded.

“Could you show the research log, please?” Albedo asked and extended his hand to you, waiting for it while his eyes were busy reading a scroll.

“Of course, here it is.” 

Knights of Favonius Alchemical Research Log

Project Lead: Albedo

Research Assistant: Y/N

Project Title: Development of an Advanced Alchemical Catalyst

Lab Location: Knights of Favonius HQ—Alchemy Division

1. Research Objective

To create a catalyst infused with stabilized alchemical energy to enhance elemental control and efficiency.

To ensure the catalyst is safe, durable, and responsive to the wielder’s energy signature.

The following was a record of all the important information needed to proceed successfully with this research. Albedo put you in charge of documenting everything that will be fundamental for this, so you had been doing an exhausting research of all the materials and methods to use, hypothesizing the results, and substantiating the theory behind your project.

Albedo took the log from your hands. At some points of the day, he would read what you added to it and add his opinions.

“Looks good.” He acknowledged while returning you the log. “What did you gather about the materials to use for the core and frame?” 

“It seems that Noctilucous Jade, Crystal Marrow, and Cor Lapis are the best initial candidates, but we still need to test them.” 

“Explain.”

“The Noctilucous Jade reacts to elemental energy and has the potential to stabilize it, the Crystal Marrow increases the strength and toughness of metals, and the Cor Lapis could offer reinforcement to the frame due to its durability.” 

Something that once was like a conversation between Albedo and you now made you feel apprehensive. There was this fear of forgetting what you were supposed to say or confusing the different answers in your head. Albedo was an expert alchemist; he could notice if you mistook condensate with concentrate.

If the questions become more difficult, would you be able to answer them?

“Where are the samples for the tests?” He raised his gaze and looked directly at you, his teal eyes making you nervous.

“I already requested them to be deliv…”

You couldn’t finish your sentence before the door creaked open, and a familiar voice hesitated at the entrance.

“Mr. Albedo? I have the materials you requested.”

Sucrose stepped inside, carefully balancing a wooden crate in her arms. There was a faint scent of minerals and damp stone along with a glow coming from the bottom of the crate. 

“Sucrose! Perfect timing, thank you so much.” You ran to help her and grabbed the crate to leave it on the central table, next to the log you recently reviewed with Albedo.

“It's nothing. Please let me know if you need anything else; I’m glad to help.” She smiled at you and then handed you the list of materials you ordered in Albedo’s name. You peered inside and made sure all of them were in the crate before signing the list and returning it to her.

Sucrose adjusted her glasses. “Will you be synthesizing these components right away?”

Albedo hummed in thought. “Not immediately; we still need to test them in specific conditions. I expect a few adjustments before reaching anything stable.”

Sucrose nodded, her expression filled with quiet admiration. “Understood. Let me know if you need assistance.” With a final glance at you and an encouraging thumbs up, she excused herself and exited the lab.

Albedo then turned to you. “Shall we begin?”

Four weeks had passed since the start of the catalyst project. The lab was filled with notes, half-finished sketches, and an assortment of materials.

At this point you were basically living in the lab, only leaving at late hours of the night to go home to eat, shower, and sleep before returning in the morning after the same routine to the lab. Every day was a challenge. Once you got results or figured something out, a new problem appeared. You knew you were progressing fast compared to other alchemists, but every bump on the way felt like a mountain you had to climb in order to reach the other side.

Frustration crept in; after three days of being stuck on the same obstacle, you were slowly losing confidence. The repeated failures were taking a toll on your spirit. The eagerness and excitement you had at the beginning were slowly fading away. Your fingers tremble as you try to get the catalyst’s core mechanism to stabilize the flow of elemental energy, but it keeps flickering due to its instability. 

You watch as the experiment fails… Again.

You can’t even manage a basic stabilization. Without it, you wouldn’t be able to continue with the rest of the steps.

No wonder he said you weren’t enough. 

The memory of your ex resurfaced, and the shadow of his words loomed over you. His voice echoed in your ears, forcing you to remember his excuses when you begged him to tell you why he looked for others, why you weren’t enough for him.

You could feel your eyes stinging with unshed tears. Maybe he was right; maybe you weren't enough. For him, for your work, for your chief… You weren’t good enough for you. 

“How is the stabilization going?” Albedo steps in, startling you and almost making you drop the experimental sample. You were so distracted with your inner thoughts that you didn't notice his presence.

He leans in, your shoulders brushing, and starts to examine the core mechanism and grabs it to look at it better. You are nervous, and some worry starts to set in as you look at how concentrated he seems. The self-deprecating remarks faded at Albedo’s calming presence. In these weeks working alongside him, you have become closer and more relaxed with him.

“What if the problem isn’t with the materials but rather with the energy flow?” Albedo suggested.

Why are the materials not the problem?

After the various rounds of tests to identify the most compatible and efficient materials to design the core mechanism, you knew they were perfect conductors of energy. If they weren’t, the core mechanism wouldn’t work at all. No flickering and no surging. So, in reality, the properties and refinement of the materials are perfectly adequate.

Why is the energy flow the solution?

The reasoning behind energy flow is that energy must travel through the right pathways to work efficiently. When talking about catalysts, they must direct and regulate their internal energy properly.

Then, what if the instability is caused by an imbalance in the pathways of the energy flow? You almost jumped from your seat to grab the blueprint and revisit the structure of the mechanism.

Imbalance.

An imbalance in the pathways…

There it is! You almost scream in delight when you finally see that there’s a misalignment in the channels causing an overload in one of the sections and a shortage in another. You quickly but carefully adjust the placement of the elemental core, shifting it by a few degrees to align with the pathways. 

You were almost done; only the refinement was missing. You grabbed the engraving tool tightly, your pulse quickening. This was going to be difficult, but you knew you could do it. You adjusted the grooves, scraping away excess material and redrawing key lines, hoping to direct the flow more evenly.

For a moment, nothing changed.

Then, finally, the movement steadied, and it glowed, the energy moving smoothly through the patterns. You exhaled, tension still lingering in your shoulders, but relief washing over you. 

“It’s working.” You wanted to cry, but this time in happiness. You did it. 

Albedo’s hand came to rest on your head, his fingers pressing lightly in a quiet gesture of acknowledgment before pulling away. “Well done.” He smiled, and a strange warmth bloomed in your chest; you returned the smile.

You were capable of solving this.

You were good enough.

The once-busy corridors of the HQ were now quiet, the usual chatter replaced with the occasional echo of the few knights who remained in the building. It was late at night; the laboratory’s light was now dim. You were exhausted after a long day working on the catalyst’s experimental sample.

After completing the core mechanism successfully, you spent several weeks finalizing the design and gathering the materials for the first assembly of a non-functional model. Before making the experimental prototype, you needed to test the physical form of the catalyst. Fortunately, the complications were minimal, and the progress was advancing smoothly.

Despite your exhaustion, you felt a sense of accomplishment after all your hard work. Some doubt occasionally crept in, but you focused on something else, and you forgot about it. After all, Albedo was happy with the direction the project had taken and reassured you it was because of your work. 

“I believe it’s getting late; we should wrap up for the day.” Albedo let out a tired breath as he put his pen down, rubbing his temple with his fingers. There was a heaviness in his movements, showing his weariness after a long day.

You noticed the drop of his shoulders and the way his eyes lingered on the mess on his desk; it seemed he had no energy to arrange anything. His blonde hair was even messier than any other day, some strands falling across his forehead. At some point he had taken his white coat off, revealing the dark fabric clinging to his body and making it hard to ignore how well it fitted him. Without his coat, he looked more relaxed and comfortable.

When your eyes met his, there was something different in the way you looked at each other. You weren’t sure if it was for the tiredness, the closeness, or the lack of contact with other people, but you wondered if you had ever truly looked at him before.

“I will make sure to arrange the place, Mr. Albedo. You can leave for the day.” You diverted your look to the mess on the desk. Even if you were exhausted, he looked weary too, and you could offer help.

“No, I will help you.” He informed you as he began organizing his things.

“There’s no need; I know you need some rest.”

The look he gave you indicated he thought you needed one too, and you felt your cheeks burn in embarrassment. You didn’t want to look at yourself in the mirror, but you knew there were bags under your eyes, a mess in your hair, and traces of dirt on your clothes.

“If we both help, we can leave earlier. Besides, it’s getting darker, and I don’t want you to walk to your house alone. I will accompany you.”

You blinked, caught off guard at his offer. Even if it wasn’t common, there had been instances when you had to walk home late and he didn’t offer to join you, but it was true this was the first time it was so late. Although Mondstadt was a rather safe city, there was still some danger lurking around.

“Oh, but you don’t have to…” But the way he tilts his head, as if the thought of not walking you home never even occurred to him, makes you trail off. Your heartbeat stumbles slightly. "...Alright."

After some time, you leave the Knights of Favonius HQ with Albedo by your side. The night air was cool and crisp, and the quiet atmosphere made you more aware of the sounds of the wind and low talk from the awoken citizens. 

As you walk side by side, there’s a natural closeness between the two. These two months you have spent together working on the catalyst have forced the two of you to work in a reduced space for long hours of the day, making you interact in ways you hadn’t done before. There was more small talk than before; you laughed at the jokes Albedo occasionally said, he would reassure you every time you felt overwhelmed, and he would guide you when he noticed you were stuck in a dilemma.

With how busy you two were, it was not rare you just realized how your relationship had grown. A faint smile appeared on your lips at the thought of getting close to someone else again.

“You seem happy.” Albedo acknowledges, his eyes on you. Despite the lack of light, he noticed the content expression on your face.

“I just… I’m very honored you asked me to join you in this project; I never thought we would achieve so much.” It was true, the initial doubts you had in Albedo’s decision to help him were still there, but this has been one of the best experiences you had as an alchemist.

“My opinion still stands; you are the only one capable of doing this with me, and I was correct. Just a glance at the log and you can see how much you have contributed to it.” His words produced a warm sensation in you, delighted that someone like Albedo recognized your capabilities and effort.

“I still want to thank you.” As you walk, the moonlight suddenly makes you feel sentimental. “I used to think I could do anything as long as I had someone there for me, but then, when I had no one, I realized how wrong that was.”

There was a time you trusted your ex to be there every time you needed it. So, when he wasn’t there to hold you anymore, you fell.

“I’m finally learning that, even if there’s a sense of emptiness in my chest, I can support myself.” You hoped one day that emptiness would leave, but for the meantime, you were retaking control of yourself. “And I believe the opportunity you gave me helped me to realize that. So, thank you.”

You had arrived at your house. Both of you stood outside, facing each other. You hadn’t realized how close you were standing until now. The dim light of the moon cast a faint glow on Albedo’s face, highlighting the sharp contours of his face. His gaze, unreadable, rested on you.

Your heart stuttered. 

It wasn’t just the way he looked at you, but also the weight his eyes had on you. As if seeing something you still didn’t know. The space between the two felt smaller every second, almost allowing you to hear the sound of his breathing.

“You did that by yourself; I will not take any credit from it.” Even if his voice was very low, it was loud in your ears.

You swallowed, suddenly too aware of how his eyes flickered over your face, as if looking for something. He lifted his hand, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin. The touch was barely there; yet, it was enough to make your breath hitch. Maybe it was you, but you felt his touch lingering for a second too long.

“...There was dust here.” He murmured, his voice quieter than usual.

Suddenly, you were hyperaware of everything he did. You glanced up; he was calm, focused, and heavier. A hint of a smirk emerged, and your pulse fluttered.

“Rest well; I will see you tomorrow.” 

And as you watch him leave, you are left with a flood of emotions, wondering what happened. Unsure of where this is leading to, at least you were sure something shifted in your relationship with Albedo.

The shadow of your past was slowly fading.

It had been a week since the day Albedo took you to your home. Thankfully, the following days were as usual; you two were busy working on completing the experimental sample, and you were close to finding the right structure. However, you were unable to ignore how that moment you shared some nights ago had shaken the way you saw and interacted with him. 

Your eyes now lingered too long on his movements; his eyes made you rethink what you were saying, and his smile drew your gaze to it. There was no stopping the little jump your heart did whenever his shoulders brushed yours, and you were worried about what this could mean to you.

The inner struggle you were having was making your head spin, and having to see and interact with Albedo most of the day was not helping. As a result, you decided to go out after finishing today’s work and go have dinner with one of the closest friends you had: Lisa, the Librarian of the Knights of Favonius. 

It was an interesting relationship the two of you shared; she was like an older sister. She was much older than you, in a way that made you feel she had lived more than what she looked, but regardless of that, she had been one of your biggest supporters since you joined the Knights of Favonius. 

Currently, you were waiting for Lisa at one of the tables at Good Hunter. Although it was night, the city was illuminated with the soft light of the lanterns. Its glow cast a golden pool of light over the restaurant, giving it a sense of warmth and making the night feel less lonely and more cozy.

You were lost in thought, staring at the candle on your table, absentmindedly circling with your finger the candle holder.

“Darling, unless you’ve obtained a pyro vision, I’d say that poor candle has endured enough of your longing stares.”

Lisa slid into the seat in front of you, propping an elbow on the table as she studied you with knowing eyes. There is nothing you can hide from her, and you shouldn’t even try to.

“What’s on your mind? And don’t say ‘nothing’; you’re far too deep in thought for that.” She warned and sent a wink towards Sara, the waitress, who chuckled and began preparing the food Lisa usually orders.

“Do you tend to order by winking instead of talking?” You made fun of her, and she raised her eyebrow at you.

“Believe me, cutie, a wink at the correct moment will get you anything.” You laughed at what she confidently said. “Go on, spill. You know I’m much better company than that flame.”

And so, you did. It wasn’t easy to admit what was going on in your mind as you felt embarrassed at the situation you were in, but Lisa had something that made you feel confident with her. The only downside is that you were not leaving this table without some teasing from her part. And at some point, Sara served you your food, and you both ate as you spoke.

“I see… So, you’re working late nights with the ever-enigmatic Chief Alchemist; he walks you home like a true gentleman, and now you find yourself thinking about him at odd hours? My, my, whatever could that mean?” Lisa smirked teasingly after you finished talking as she poked at her food with her fork.

“Don’t say it like that.” Your skin burned with embarrassment; she wasn’t going to let you off easily any time soon.

“He’s quite easy on the eyes, don’t you think so?” She provoked you, knowing damn well you agree with her. His handsome looks were something you noticed from the moment you met him; you just were more aware of it now.

“He is…” You shyly admitted. “But that doesn’t mean there’s something else; we just have gotten closer the last few months with all our work.” Lisa giggled at your poor attempts to excuse your feelings.

“Cutie, you can insist nothing’s happening all you want. But the way your eyes have a spark when you talk about him? That tells me everything.” Her gaze softens on you.

“It’s just complicated, Lisa.” You let out an exhausted sigh, your back resting against the chair. 

“Is it really?”

“No… Mr. Albedo is certainly an attractive man, but this is not about that. We have spent too much time together because of the project; it’s natural that I… I don’t know; notice things about him.” 

That was what you wanted to believe; these emotions you were feeling were just the effects of work overload and your proximity. In all the time you had worked as Albedo’s assistant, you were never under these conditions; that was the only explanation. Besides, there was a lingering thought at the back of your mind, and you couldn’t yet dare to bring it out.

“Besides, he’s my superior. It would be completely inappropriate for me to think of him in any other way.” That was another issue you couldn’t ignore; you were his assistant. How could you even think of him in an unprofessional way?

Lisa’s eyes sparkled with mirth at your words. “Ah, so that’s what is bothering you? The forbidden nature of it all?” She smirks, but before you can say anything, she continues. “I know what you think, darling, but is this really about your roles? Do you think that in the free city of Mondstadt, your dynamic as chief and assistant creates an invisible barrier between you two?” 

“I—I don’t…” You couldn’t answer truthfully because Lisa was slowly pushing away every one of your excuses.

“There are many scholars and knights who worked under someone they admired and then began a not-so-professional relationship with them, you know? And no one had a problem with that; there are many examples in the city.” 

She didn’t lie; no one batted an eye at those types of relationships. This wasn’t just about your growing awareness toward Albedo’s looks or touches; it was something deeper you didn’t want to admit. Yet, you had to. Because only by facing the truth would you move on.

You let out a sigh, deciding to finally tell her the real reason. “I guess I’m scared of what I’m feeling.”

The wounds of your past continued to make you doubt. Every day it was easier to deal with them as they were slowly vanishing from your mind. However, there was a wound you couldn’t get over, as someone you once trusted and loved left scars deep inside of you that made it difficult to see someone else as nothing more than friends. 

Lisa gave you a soft and understanding look. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re hesitant, and that’s understandable. This is new, unexpected, and maybe you don’t feel ready. You’ve been through a lot, but don’t let the past decide how you feel about your present.”

You knew she was right. Only by letting the past stay in the past would you move on. Still, it was complicated; your ex was someone who caused more harm than good. Leaving him in your past was not easy.

“Has he left you alone?” She asked curiously; she knew how he refused to leave you alone. 

“He keeps sending me occasional letters, but he doesn’t try to see me anymore. To be honest, I have been too busy to notice when he comes.” The last time you heard anything about him was four days ago when a knight notified you that you had received a letter, but you didn’t even accept it, telling him to throw it away.

“Mmm, maybe he is finally giving up?” 

The possibility of that was low, but it would bring great relief to your life and your feelings. It had been like seven months since you ended your relationship with him; it was time for him to realize you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

As you wondered if you would finally be free of him, Lisa’s gaze drifted past you, her expression shifting just lightly. Her eyes dimmed, and her previous expression was replaced by something more calculating. 

“Oh, darling. What a shame we live in such a small city.” She murmured, lifting her drink and taking a small sip.

She didn’t have to say anything to know what she meant. You turned your head and saw the last thing you wanted to see. Your ex was approaching the restaurant with his now wife next to him and his baby in her arms. They didn’t look like a lovey-dovey couple, but there was a proximity between them that wasn’t there the last time you saw them, many months ago.

It seemed like they didn’t notice you were there, as you weren’t the only ones in the restaurant, but once they were too close, he finally saw you. His eyes initially passed over you, not recognizing you at first, but something made him look again. His posture shifts, shoulders tightening as he looks away a little too fast. 

A mocking chuckle leaves your mouth, and Lisa looks surprised at that, but how could you not laugh when his reaction is so different from seeing you when he's with his new family? Before, he would almost cry, go after you, and just look at you with clear sadness and regret in his eyes. Now, he clearly looked uncomfortable.

Like Lisa said, has he finally given up? Or is it the guilt of showcasing his new relationship in front of his ex?

“I don’t get it; Albedo is much more pleasant to see than him. Besides, he is rather charming in his own way.” Lisa compared Albedo with your ex, clearly wanting to lighten the mood. 

Her words made you think. Your ex was by no means an unattractive man. After all, there was a reason for how he had many women enchanted over him behind your back. He had his brown hair neatly styled, and his honey-colored eyes carried a certain charm. He was of a strong build, not overly muscular but well-proportioned. Overall, he was the kind of person who looks effortlessly put together.

However, Lisa was right. The first time you saw him, you remember thinking he looked inhumanly beautiful. His platinum-blond hair catches the light of the sun, his teal eyes drown you without effort, and his light skin is smooth. His presence was impossible to ignore as his beauty was delicate yet arresting. He was ethereal. 

“It doesn’t bother me…” Was what you said after remaining quiet for a few seconds? Your thoughts had drifted away after thinking of the situation. 

You were no longer staring at your ex, deciding to ignore them and focus on how you felt about the situation. You saw him, and for a moment you felt the heartbreak, the self-doubt, the nights wondering if you were ever enough for him. But as he stood there, you saw a stranger; there was no longing, no anger, and no resentment. The only thing you felt was the weight of his actions, which harmed the way you saw yourself. 

That’s what it hurts. You didn’t suffer for losing him, but you did because you lost yourself in the process. 

“You’re right, Lisa… Albedo is much more interesting than him.” You jokingly said, refusing to give more attention to the new and happy family behind you and eating the food from your plate. 

And as you refused to acknowledge them anymore, they stood there, unable to get closer to the restaurant they had decided to have dinner to have one of their weekly ‘bonding moments.’. That’s how the father of the wife said to force them to present their newlywed status.

Lisa saw everything. The way their eyes looked at you, one with yearning and guilt and the other with anger and envy. The innocent baby is asleep, ignorant of everything. And in a moment you were too distracted to notice, she mischievously grinned and pointed out for them to leave.

And they did so without complaining.

As the night progressed, Lisa kept asking and teasing you, more interested in encouraging you to acknowledge your growing feelings for Albedo. Making sure the topic of your ex remains buried in the past. 

Every day you were closer to the ending of the catalyst project. The lab was a mess; there were papers scattered across the table, pieces of the different parts of the catalyst, and some of the tools had fallen to the ground. The experimental sample was completed, Albedo designed a perfect model for the catalyst, and you analyzed the components and structure to do the final adjustments. With the completion of that, you could move on to the experimental prototype. 

This was the first example of how the catalyst was going to be, and it’s where you were going to test everything you did until this point. 

It was an unpredictable phase; you had already discovered some failures and mistakes you previously did in the construction of the parts, but the prototype was working. Unstable, but working. 

Your fingers ached, but you barely noticed—or cared. The last few days were blurry in your mind; you had spent hours bent over work, scribbling and rewriting. You barely registered; you hadn’t eaten much in the day, and it was only when Albedo reminded you that you dedicated some time to eat.

There was no time to waste; the project had to be completed, and you were so close to completing it.

As you struggled to piece together a solution for the overheating issue, you didn’t notice how Albedo’s fingers brushed over the tools and papers scattered on the table, subtly organizing them in a way that made it easier for you to use them. You also didn’t see how Albedo pushed a paper with some information about heat dissipation mechanisms, too engrossed in your task.

“That’s not how you do it.” You exhaled sharply, rolling your shoulders back. 

Maybe if you placed some conduits, it would redirect the heat to secondary components that can handle higher temperatures. You grabbed the paper Albedo discreetly handed and confirmed it could be a solution. 

You barely registered the way Albedo leaned against the desk next to you, arms crossed and his eyes watching intently what you were doing. You noticed how the candlelight softened his features, a stark contrast to the usual sharpness he carried. 

However, there was no time to think about it. If you start to think about him, it is going to be difficult to focus again. Right now, you couldn’t distract yourself.

It was complicated to explain how and when you had taken control of the catalyst project; in fact, you didn’t remember. Yet, you knew two things: doing this was making you feel like an alchemist again, and you wanted to prove to yourself—and Albedo—you could be one.

And when you tested the results of adjusting the temperature conduits and succeeded in fixing the overheating problem, you knew you couldn’t stop. 

No matter how exhausted you were, this was a test for you to see what you were capable of. And you were determined to win.

Something was missing. 

The catalyst was technically completed. Of course, the only stage left was the tests with the help of the vision-holders. However, when you observed the catalyst to see if everything was done, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it needed something else.

The reinforcement was done, the fine-tuning too; you double-checked everything and didn't find any errors. As you traced your fingers on its surface, you wondered what it was missing. And when you reached the middle of the catalyst and saw the blank and smooth surface, you knew what it was.

With steady hands you grabbed the rune carver and engraved the constellation of Aries. Just a little but meaningful touch for you. When the engraving begins glowing, you exhale in relief.

The prototype was, as you knew, completed. Now, it feels complete. 

Hearing footsteps approaching, you turned around and saw Albedo, his eyes fixed on the completed prototype of the catalyst and observing every detail. Your heart was pounding in your chest, anxiety beginning to creep up. His gaze then turned towards you, and as your breath hitched, he grinned brightly, and his eyes shone with something inexplicable.

He placed his hand on your shoulder and spoke. “You did it, congratulations.”

“No! Thank you, Mr. Albedo.” You were flustered; for a moment, you forgot this was Albedo’s research project.

“Mmm, why are you thanking me?” His grin turned into a full smirk, and you suddenly had the feeling he knew something that you didn’t.

“Because this is your project?” There was confusion in your voice as you watched him hide a laugh. “So, I appreciate you letting me work with you on this. It was an incredible experience.” And it was, you were incredibly thankful.

“Was it?” He took a step back and perched on the edge of the table, crossing his arms.

“Yes?” 

“This was my idea, yes… However, is it correct to call it my catalyst project?” He asked you, challenging you to decipher the meaning behind his words.

You were utterly bewildered. 

This was Albedo’s research project; he presented the idea of creating a catalyst enhanced with alchemical procedures, and you worked alongside him to complete it. Whatever Albedo was saying, you still didn’t get it.

Albedo chuckled at your expression, grabbed a pile of documents, and handed them to you.

It was the research log. As you flipped through the pages, looking for what you were supposed to find out, something caught your eye. 

Knights of Favonius Alchemical Research Log

Project Leader: Y/N

Research Assistant: Albedo

Project Title: Development of an Advanced Alchemical Catalyst

Lab Location: Knights of Favonius HQ—Alchemy Division

Your name. Not longer under research assistant, but under project leader. You read it again, thinking it was a mistake. When the project began, you remember writing it down with Albedo as the leader and you as the assistant. But no, the roles were, in fact, inverted. Your name held the title of leader of the research, while Albedo’s was listed beneath yours as the assistant.

And suddenly, you realized what he was trying to tell you. You thought back to every moment you had taken control of the research and every time Albedo stepped back to allow you to take control. At one point, he stopped instructing you and just guided you when you needed it. The hints had been there, but you had been too deep in the work to notice it. And as you skimmed through the pages, you saw how Albedo had annotated every record of the research after you—without noticing—stopped annotating.

Your hands tightened around the log, and you felt like tears would come out at any moment. 

This was never his project to complete. It was yours. 

You lifted your gaze to Albedo, who watched you with quiet satisfaction, as if he had been waiting for you to see it for yourself. 

“Congratulations for your hard work, Project Leader.” His smile turned soft as he watched the emotions in your eyes. 

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Albedo’s eyes followed it as it fell. As you reached to wipe it away, you noticed the tremble in your fingers.You were still processing everything—the completion of your work and the weight of your journey—when something warm brushed against your skin. 

Albedo’s thumb, gently, caught the tear before it fell further. His touch lingered for just a moment, grounding you, as if he was acknowledging everything you had to go through to reach this moment.

Everything from the emotional mess you were at the beginning, all the self-doubt and struggles, to this. You did it.

“Why?” You needed to ask, needed the answer.

Albedo didn’t step away, remaining close to you. “You went through difficult times, and you lost yourself in your grief. It felt as if you were shattered, and no matter how hard you tried, the pieces wouldn’t fit back together.” 

He confessed what you once were scared of; he noticed your broken state. Your tears, your breakdowns, your emotional distress, your failures.

“And there was a strange feeling inside of me, urging me to do something, to not let you suffer anymore. And I asked myself, What can I do?” His thumb traced the path of your jawline as his eyes followed it. “But this was your own battle, and I had no right to interfere. You were the one who had to do it.”

His thumb was exchanged with his fingers, and he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. He looked so serene while looking at you.

“So I decided to motivate your alchemist self.” He knowingly smiled. “The y/n I knew, with the right motivation, would invest herself in an alchemy challenge. You doubted at the beginning and trailed behind me, but you slowly strayed away from my lead and took control. Over time you healed, and there was again that shine in your eyes.” Suddenly you noticed you two were not that far from each other, mere inches separating you. “I’m glad you're back.”

The words hung between you two, sinking into your chest with the weight of something you couldn’t yet name. Albedo planned this. Not for the sake of alchemy, for knowledge, or for an award. He did it for you. He had seen as you lost yourself and helped you build a path to lead you back. 

The realization sparked, a warmth spreading through you. He had always been there: watching and guiding you. And now, standing so close to each other, you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. You felt it.

The awareness of him. 

The way his presence destabilized you. The way his eyes, usually so composed, softened when they met yours. The way his lips parted, as if he wanted to say more, but the space between you had grown too thin.

Your pulse pounded in your ears. For so long you had dismissed the flutter in your chest, refusing to admit he was something more than your chief alchemist. But now, there was no running from what you were feeling.

You wanted him. And when your gaze crossed with his, you realized he wanted you too.

He tilted his head lightly, watching your reaction as the distance began to disappear, but you didn’t back away. You got closer to him, your breaths mixing. His lips brushed yours so lightly it felt like a caress.

And then, you finally kissed.

It started as a fleeting touch, barely there. It was careful, uncertain, and testing. The warmth of his lips, the way he exhaled softly, sent a shiver down your spine. But then, you responded. Your fingers curled into his coat, and you pulled him closer. He inhaled sharply against your mouth, and whatever restraint he had was shattered.

The kiss turned urgent. His lips pressed hard, parting, molding against yours in a desperate hunger that wanted to consume you. His hands were everywhere at once, one with its fingers tangled in your hair while the other slid up your spine, pulling you close to him as he kissed you deeper.

You met him with the same passion, your hands sliding up to his chest and then up to the back of his neck, fingers tingling in his soft hair. Your heartbeat was pounding so hard, you were sure he could hear it too. 

His teeth grazed your bottom lip before soothing the bite with his tongue, and a soft sound escaped your throat that he greedily swallowed. His tongue teased against yours, sending a shiver through your body. Your tongues clashed, battling to see who was more hungry for the other, savoring the moment. 

And as he pressed forward, pushing you against the desk behind you, he left no space for anything but him. He was consuming you whole, but just a kiss, a kiss you never wanted to end.

But in your growing passion, you bumped hard into something, and you suddenly felt how Albedo covered you from the falling of several books and objects. Your lips separated due to the surprise, the tickling feeling far from disappearing, reminding you of your heated exchange.

“Careful.” His hoarse voice whispered against your ear, making you feel hot in every part of your body.

You had bumped into one of the bookshelves in the lab, the one you also used to put your belongings every day when you arrived. And as you two caught your breath, your eyes caught the sight of something that left you in disbelief. 

There, in between your belongings that had slipped out of your bag, was a jeweled amulet. It was a small turquoise stone with an almost translucent glow. Encased inside was a design of tri-feather wings with a diamond-shaped tail at the bottom. You stared at it, dazed, unable to grasp what it was and what it was doing there. 

It was a vision. An Anemo Vision. 

You were frozen, obviously confused. You didn’t have a vision. Was this a mistake?

You reach out to grab the vision, and realization hits you. This was yours. And when you look at Albedo, expecting him to be as surprised as you, you discover he is simply smirking. 

“It was to be expected.” 

It was like the emotions wouldn’t stop pouring out from you this day. As you held your newly obtained vision, you realized what you led here. To this moment. All this time you thought you were trying to prove yourself again, but in fact, you were becoming yourself again. You finally let the tears flow as you rested against Albedo’s body; he welcomed you in his arms. This time, the tears were of relief and happiness.

And this vision was proof of your journey.

It had been some weeks since the day you and Albedo kissed for the first time and since the vision found its way into your hands. You still were unsure about the meaning it had; sometimes you were entranced looking at it, as if its soft glow forbade you to forget you were now a vision wielder.

However, you didn’t have time to dwell on it. You had continued to work on finalizing the catalyst, moving to the final product. During your time together, your relationship began to shift. You weren’t sure what to call the relationship, but it was there, growing little by little. With every look, every touch, every kiss.

And after a total of eight months of research and hard work, the catalyst was finally complete. And tonight, the Knights of Favonius had organized an event in which the different divisions would showcase something, and you would present the catalyst to the knights, the scholars, and the interested citizens of Mondstadt. 

The Knights of Favonius had transformed the plaza outside of the headquarters into a lively festival. There were rows of wooden stalls and a few makeshift pavilions. Each and every one showcasing different projects, such as magical items, blacksmith weapons, and different types of strategy or knowledge-oriented books. There were a lot of people wandering between the exhibits and enjoying the event. 

At the center of it all stood a raised platform, reserved for the most anticipated presentations of the evening. That was where you were going to present your completed catalyst. You were nervous, but the anticipation was bigger than any other feeling.

“Show them what you can do.” Albedo encouraged you with a grin, softly kissing your hand before you left for the stage.

“I never imagined you would be such a chivalrous man, Albedo.” Lisa teased as Albedo approached where she was sitting, waiting for you to do your showcase.

“What do you mean?” He asked as he took a seat next to her, crossing his arms while his eyes followed your nervous yet confident form. 

“Oh, don’t play coy. I’ve never seen you so attentive before. It looks like you are acting like a gentleman in love.” 

Albedo pauses, tilting his head slightly as he processes her words. “Is that so? It’s a simple and natural response; I care about her, and I want to cherish her.”

Lisa chuckles, enjoying Albedo’s confession. “My, my… Such a romantic man; looks like Y/N is a lucky woman.” 

Albedo didn’t answer anymore, but he could feel the heat rush to his face. He watched as you spoke in front of the public, describing the process of designing and constructing the catalyst you held in your hands as they listened intently. There it was again, the rapid beating of his heart when you smiled and your eyes shone.

The last eight months were also a battle for him, as he questioned what he was feeling for you. He was a rational man, someone who had never gone through the experience of a real romantic relationship.

So, when the feelings arose in his mind, he tried to rationalize them, incapable of understanding the real meaning behind them. Then, he realized that’s not how feelings work. The feelings only grew with each interaction with you, even if it was a simple conversation. He couldn’t stop looking at you, paying attention to every detail of what you did.

And then he finally understood what attraction felt like and wondered how it would feel to have you against him, his lips on yours. Then, he did. He had you exactly where he wanted you for such a long time, and he knew this was just the beginning.

As you presented, with a careful flick of your wrist, the catalyst sparked with life and floated around you. People gasped in surprise as wind began circling around you in playful swirls, and the public marveled at how flowers and leaves floated around the place, creating a beautiful scenery.

“Remarkable!” Sucrose whispered in excitement as she joined Lisa and Albedo to watch your presentation. “Didn’t she recently obtain her vision?” She was amazed at the control you had over the element.

“She did.” Lisa said proudly, side-glancing at the main culprit of your amazing control of Anemo, who was too busy smiling at you to notice. Even if Albedo didn’t have an Anemo Vision, he still helped you to master the basics of elemental wielding.

When you finished your showcase, you thanked everyone for their attention, a wide grin on your face as you felt the excitement and pride of what you had accomplished. When you joined Albedo, Lisa, and Sucrose, you basically jumped to hug Albedo.

“How did I do?” You excitedly asked Albedo, reflecting your thrilled state.

He held you by the waist with a proud look on his face, and he caressed your cheek as he spoke. “That was the best showcase of the night.”

You giggled at his words, completely unaware of Lisa and Sucrose's secret exchange. Although you and Albedo have always been close, they could have never predicted the growing romantic relationship between the two of you. Yet, they were happy for the two of you. Seeing you smile again after so much time made them realize how much they missed your happy self.

“Lisa… should we interrupt them?” Sucrose discreetly asked her as she watched you and Albedo still hugging. “I want to congratulate y/n.”

“Not yet, darling. Give them a few seconds more; they are enjoying each other.” Lisa laughed at Sucrose’s blushed face.

With the three of you too distracted to notice, Lisa was the only one to pay attention to the person who was looking at you and Albedo. Your ex was there, his gaze darting between Albedo and you, his expression unreadable. But Lisa, ever perceptive, caught the unease that crossed his face, her lips curving slightly in amusement.

“Interesting.” She murmured, just loud enough for Sucrose to hear. “Some people are more entitled than what you would think.'"

“What do you mean?” Sucrose asked, confused over Lisa’s words.

Yet, Lisa didn’t answer. Sending your ex a threatening glance made him run away from the place in a hurry. At that moment, Lisa decided to personally take care of him if he refused to finally give up after seeing you with someone else. He wouldn’t ruin your new happiness, not on her watch.

After the event was finalized, you said goodbye to Lisa and Sucrose, thanking them for coming to see you and promising to go out with them soon now that you had more free time. To celebrate the conclusion of the project and the success of the showcase, you decided to invite Albedo to your house to rest in front of the fireplace after having a nice meal in one of the restaurants in the city.

The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow in the room as you rested your head on Albedo’s shoulder. You were a little tired after the busy but exciting evening, but now, in the comfort of your home, everything felt softer. Albedo had helped 

“Thank you.” You murmured, the quietness in the room allowing him to hear you perfectly. “For everything you did for me.”

Albedo’s gaze lowered to meet yours. “I barely did anything; all of this happened because of you. You never needed me.” His words were gentle, yet there was something warmer than usual in his tone.

You smiled, shifting your position just enough to look up at him. Your faces were close now, the firelight flickering over his face, giving him a soft look on his usual sharp expressions. His arm moved slightly, making his fingertips brush against the skin of your back, sending a pleasant shiver through you. Your heart picked up its pace when his gaze dipped, lingering on your lips for just a second too long.

Neither of you spoke as you leaned in, finally closing the small distance between the two of you. His lips were soft and warm as they pressed to yours, gentle and slow. His free hand came up, his fingers tracing over the skin of your cheek as the kiss deepened. A delicious sound rose in the back of his throat as your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer to you. 

Then, you traced your fingers along the nape of his neck to his back, and you dug your nails in it. That was all it took.

Albedo inhaled sharply before his restraint broke entirely. His hand slid into your hair, gripping just enough to tip your head back as his mouth moved against yours with sudden, burning intensity. A loud moan escaped your mouth when his tongue brushed against yours. Your hands pulling him even closer to you, as the kiss turned heated and messier, filled with the want you two had for each other. 

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” He pulled away for a few seconds, his breathing uneven as he rested his forehead against yours. 

“Don’t you dare to stop.” You pulled him back at him, your answer clear in the way your lips crashed against his once more. 

He pressed his body against yours, trapping you between him and the bed of pillows and sheets you put together before. You were surrounded by his warmth and scent, his tongue exploring your mouth and his hands your body. He traced the shape of your hips and moved towards your legs, gripping your thighs as he parted them to accommodate between them.

You moaned into his mouth when his lips moved to your neck with urgency. You were burning when his breath hit your skin, his tongue following and leaving a wet trail. A gasp left you when his teeth scraped against your skin, you clutching at the back of his head. He let out a low, satisfied hum against your throat when you tangled your fingers in his hair and wrapped your legs around his hips. 

Then, you felt it. His erection dug into your lower stomach, making the wetness between your legs increase, aching for him.

“Take this off.” You begged Albedo as your hands hurried to try to take off his shirt, clearly struggling.

He chuckled at your poor attempts, and he helped you to remove his shirt, throwing it away as he returned his eyes to you. His body was lean but toned, each line and curve undeniably striking. The sharp cut of his collarbones, the shape of his shoulders, the subtle definition of his muscles… It was as if he was sculpted. Your hands touched the warm skin, enjoying the feeling of such a beautiful body underneath your hands.

“You should take off yours too…” 

Albedo slowly slipped his fingers under the hem of your sweater, pulling it up and over your head with ease. You couldn’t help but smile at the way his eyes traced over the appreciative look as he took his time to observe your naked torso, his eyes staying a little too long over your breast.

“Beautiful.” Was the last thing he said before he dipped his head to press kisses against your collarbone, slowly moving towards your breasts?

You felt his warm lips brush over your breasts, kissing the sensitive skin and leaving behind a trail of heat wherever his lips touched. His hand found its way to your waist, gently massaging the soft flesh as he moved lower and lower, his kisses turning into wet, open-mouthed kisses.

He nipped at your soft skin, his tongue flicking over your hardened nipple, as his other hand massaged your other breast. Your moans turning louder as his teeth brush over the overstimulated skin of your nub, you couldn’t see it, but you felt his smirk against your skin, enjoying the sound of your breathless sounds. 

Albedo’s mouth leaves your breasts and moves down, leaving wet kisses on the valley of your breasts and your abdomen, his hands replacing his mouth and continuing to play with your perky nipples. He softly blows against your skin, and your breath hitches, but then his mouth encounters your pants, stopping him from going lower.

“Raise your hips, gorgeous.” He orders as his hands move to squeeze your hips, and you do as you are told.

When you raise your hips, he quickly drags your pants down along with your undergarments and again, throws it away to some place in your home you don’t care about.

You can see the lust in his teal eyes as he has you exposed to him, the place between your legs glistening with your wetness and almost ready for him. “Such a pretty pussy.” He says before he dives between your legs and covers your core with his mouth, lapping up your arousal.

“Ah!” Your hands grasp his hair as you moan and writhe.

His tongue played with your sensitive clit while he slowly introduced one finger inside of you. The sensation made you whimper; your hips jumped at the unexpected stimulation, making Albedo grab your hips tightly with his free hand so you couldn’t move. As his finger delved deeper in your insides, his tongue was flicking your nub and circling it with deliberately slow movements.

“More…” You desperately begged.

“Want more?” He looked up to you, his eyes burning with passion, and when you nodded, he smirked. “Then, I will give you more. Make sure you can handle it.” 

He returned to your pussy with a ravenous hunger and began sucking your juices as if he couldn’t get enough. His finger turned into two, pumping inside you mercilessly. The sudden change left you breathless, your head falling back in utter bliss. You felt the fire growing inside you; the only things that came out of your mouth were the sounds of his name and unintelligible sounds and moans. 

“You like that, gorgeous?” Albedo knew you liked it; he could see it in how you were losing yourself in the pleasure he gave you, but he wanted to hear you say it.

“Yes!” You barely managed, you say, too lost in your mind to think straight. His fingers stretching out your walls with every thrust, his mouth sucking on your sensitive clit, was almost too much; you could feel your climax approaching.

“Then cum.” He ordered, and your vision faded to black as your body shook uncontrollably.

Your hands held onto his hair, the sensation of your orgasm too strong and intense to focus. You came around his fingers, his mouth continuing to overstimulate your body, as he lapped the juices spilling out of you. 

He left your pussy and went for your mouth, kissing you deeply as you tasted yourself in his mouth. A grunt came out of his throat as your tongue wrapped around his, your body slowly calming down with his caresses on your body. Albedo broke the kiss and placed himself between your legs, his thick cock inches away from your entrance. You didn’t know when he had taken his pants off, but you were thankful he did it. You could only admire the sight of it, the tip glistening with precum, and the size and girth were fucking perfect.

Such a pretty cock for a pretty boy.

“You want this?” He dragged his cock between your folds, and you shuddered at the feeling.

“I want it, Albedo. Please, put it in.” You begged, your previous orgasm forgotten and ready for more. He smirked, leaning down to kiss you before lining himself up in your entrance.

“Then take it.” He pushed hard, and your mouth opened wide, a moan escaping you at his cock finally filling you up.

Your body was still sensitive, but, God, did you feel good at your insides being deliciously stretched out. And when Albedo was completely inside of you, you couldn’t be happier to be stuffed full by him. 

The feeling was addictive, and you two wanted more. Albedo didn’t make you wait any longer; he pulled out and thrust back in, setting a slow and steady pace. His lips went for yours, the kiss messy but passionate as your walls closed around his cock. Your body was hot, and you felt so good you couldn’t contain the moans coming out of your mouth. 

“That’s it, pretty, let me hear how much you like it.” He whispered in your ear, his voice low and hoarse.

Albedo thrust into you hard, and you screamed in pleasure, your nails digging into his back. His thrusts grew harder and rougher, making you jolt when his tip touched a special spot deep inside of you. The sound of your wetness when his cock hit your pussy was obscene, but you loved it. His mouth went for your neck, marking the skin with every thrust, leaving the skin purple and red.

He was making you feel so good, and you never wanted him to stop. One hand found your breast, his thumb flicking and pinching your hardened nipple, while his mouth sucked on the other. He bit and licked the hardened nub, making sure to treat it just right.

Everything he did was driving you insane, and you could feel your second orgasm coming closer and closer.

But Albedo was going faster and harder, making your mind go blank and your voice come out louder. Your walls closed tighter around him, and the man above you moaned loudly at the sensation. 

“Are you close?” 

You only nodded, unable to form an answer. His free hand went for your clit and began to rub fast circles around it, causing you to arch your back at the overstimulation. He kissed you, swallowing every sound from your mouth, and his cock twitched inside of you, signaling that he was also close.

“Will you come with me, pretty girl?” 

Again, you could only nod, too lost in your ecstasy to form a coherent answer, but that was enough for him. Albedo smiled, kissing you and biting your lower lip as he tugged at it.

“Then let’s cum together.”

And as he rubbed your clit faster, his thrusts became sloppy. With one last thrust, you came with a loud moan, and Albedo followed behind, coming inside of you. Your body went limp as you felt the shockwaves of your orgasm traveling in your body. You could barely register anything besides the intense pleasure. 

Albedo slowly pulled out of you, making you almost sob at the loss of his cock and the feeling of emptiness, and you could swear you almost cried at the feeling of his cum dripping out of you.

He chuckled at the sight of your state, seeing that you still were out of it.

“I guess you are very sensitive.” Albedo said as he wiped some hair away from your sweaty forehead. You could barely nod at his statement. “It’s ok, I like how you look right now.” Maybe one day, you would let him paint how devastating you look right now. 

As your high settled down, you saw Albedo coming back from some place in your home with a towel in his hand. Your eyes tracing every inch of the naked and sweaty skin. He grinned when he caught you staring at him. 

“Stare at me all you want, but let me clean you.”

“Alright.” You smiled shyly, allowing him to clean the mess between your legs.

He did it gently, the once passionate man long gone, his soft and tender fingers cleaning his cum mixed with your own slick. You flinched slightly at the sensation of the towel over your very sensitive skin, making Albedo stop and look at you with concern. You mumbled, ‘It’s fine,’ and he continued to clean. When he finished, he left the towel on the closest surface and returned to lie down next to you.

The room was quiet now; the only sound was your soft and steady breathing. The warmth of the fireplace warming your naked bodies. You traced lazy circles on Albedo’s chest, your touch light but absentminded. Your thoughts drifted, thinking of how you once felt lost and alone, but you were here. Happy. With Albedo hugging you as he played with your hair, the sound of his breathing offered comfort and made you feel whole. 

You tilted your head and found Albedo already looking at you. His eyes are soft and gentle, studying every detail of your face. You wanted to laugh; the man who gave the best sex of your life was gone. Yet, you didn’t mind. You liked the calm and rational Albedo more than anything, as he was the one who supported you when you needed it. 

“Be mine.” He murmured, his voice a whisper. 

It sounded more like a statement than a question, but you knew he wanted to hear your acceptance. Giddiness surged in you, and you giggled.

“I already am.” 

And as the night deepened, the time slowed down. The both of you continued to savor the taste of the other, enjoying each other’s company. 

This time, there was no sorrow, no doubts, and no pain. Just the beginning of a new future. Yet, this time you were at peace.

You had once loved someone so much that you lost yourself, but the man next to you didn’t bring you down like him. This man helped you find yourself again. He hadn’t just stood by her—he had lifted you, helped you rebuild the pieces of your heart, and made you realize that you were worth more than the past.

© eternallia. it is not allowed to modify, translate, or repost.

[thegnomelord]

PLEASEEEEE UR IDEA WITH MAGE M!READER AND MONSTER!COD MEN I'D LOVE THAT SO FICKING MUCH AND YES I AGREE THERE IS A LACK OF ALL THE VIOLENCE

Pov of how the world sees the reader Vs how TF141 reader :D. I'm in the middle of writing the first chapter of a fic with this idea, but guess who contracted TB like some coal miner 😞, me! So here's a sneak peak for the sort of vibe I'm going for while I'm trying to recover:

P.S: Ya'll are free to suggest/requests with this idea cause!

P.S.S: Check out bluegiragi who came up with this AU and give her some love!

Mages and Monsters

Mages are strange creatures.

In a world so full of monstrous hybrids and mythical creatures, mages sit on the proverbial line separating man from monster, stuck in both worlds without any hope of fitting in either one.

Because outwardly, they're average. No different from the billions of other humans. They're not born with the marks of monsterdom; they don't possess horns or leathery scales to shrug off small caliber bullets like dragons do, nor the claws and bone crushing jaws of werewolves, not feathered wings and razor sharp talons of harpies, nor the wraiths ghostly ability to become immaterial.

Outwardly, they're average. Ordinary. Mundane. Human...

Almost.

Because Price and Ghost are experienced enough to see the thing laying beneath the paper thin veneer of normality, are seasoned enough to quickly notice the one thing that puts an 'in' before a mage's 'human' description — Magic. Not the smoke and mirror kind magicians or charlatans use to swindle tourists out of money, but real magic.

The ancient kind, the capricious kind, slumbering like a beast inside the hollowed out cavern of a heart until it awakens with a terrible bloodlust. Each of them can attest to this; Price sports gnarled patched of scar tissue on the scaleless parts of his arm from ice burns, his draconic breath having saved him from frostbite that had devoured more than a few good men. Though Ghost doesn't show much skin, one can sometimes catch sight of branching fern patterns on his neck where lightning magic had shot through him. Gaz's back is peppered with hundreds of little cuts where a glass mage's summoned elegant ornaments had shattered into millions of shards, aiming to take out his wings.

And now Soap sports a mark of his own, his side tender red and blistered with a second degree burn. It could have been much worse, your flames were hot enough to melt steel, the only thing having kept him from an early cremation being the two solid concrete walls your magic had had to travel through to hit him and the enhanced regeneration of his thick hide.

But such power demands a cost — one paid in blood. For magic is as fickle and capricious as a rabid dog, just as eager to lunge for your throat as it will at the enemies, leaving lasting wounds for all to see; rough and calloused palms, skin blackened from blazing heat and freezing cold or marked with fern patterns of electricity, fingers stiff and marred with cuts from thorns and crystals and rock and glass, bone deep cuts where the liquid mana had burst out from the skin, leaving faintly glowing scars that never heal right.

All mages are born with this grievous gift, though one never knows whether it will present itself with a pitiful flicker of embers in a man's dying breath, or with a maelstrom of an infant's first hiccup. That's why most mages are sealed, by choice or force, a process which puts chains on the magic, making it and the mage docile.

But you are unsealed. And you flaunt that fact readily by melting the tail of their APC helicopter with one spell, not even waiting for them to crash before flooding the terrain with suffocating ash, the lenses of their gas masks already fogging up from the heat as they get out of the cloud of heavy sediment before it bursts to flames.

Sometimes the magic becomes unsatisfied with the weakness of the body, demanding more than just its pound of flesh and molding the body like clay to better suit it— Mage Marks, they're called — the subtle glow of magic in your eyes, the mana visibly pulsing inside your chest, the skin of your arms slipping away like wet paper before growing anew, this time mimicking the surface of magma, or the rocky barnacle encrusted reef, the gnarled bark of a tree, the crystalline inside of a geode, the ice spiked ground of tundra, or any other form that suits the magic in your veins.

The process is excruciating, the mana burrowing and gnawing on every nerve like a parasite that replaces what it eats with itself. But to you, that's an acceptable loss, because marked mages far surpass their unmarked fellows, your magic stronger and wilder, feral and viscous like the primordial force of nature.

So it becomes concerning when you're laying on the floor, captured, battered and bruised and calm.

Ghost had been waterboarding you for a while now, your body tied to a chair that had been tipped back so you were parallel with the ground. With water pooling around your head, your top half would have been soaked to the bone had your magic not been simmering in your veins, the magic suppression momentarily reducing the raging inferno in your chest to a meager flicker of flames.

They can't kill you, but limiting your magic for even a second is death in and of itself.

Your breathing is harsh as Ghost pulls away the cloth over your mouth, asking you a question as steam rises from your skin. Most would give in long before this point, but you just grin, eyes glowing with a burning glow, and make a comment about how good his arse looks from your viewpoint.

You manage only one small note of laughter, pitiful embers sparking at the corners of your lip, before Ghost drops the rag back over your face and begins anew.

Price watches all of this, sharp draconic eyes noting how the mana glows in your chest, pulsing like a second heart (assuming you had one to begin with), noticing how the water turns to steam a little faster when it splashes over your skin.

And Price knows.

You... You are going to be trouble.

[dmitriene]

cw: angst, emotional hurt, smut, may be a bit of comfort, complicated relationship, cunnilingus, breast play, simon have real struggles, a lot of complicated love, confessions, both rude and soft behavior from simon. pairing: simon ghost riley x fem reader

ㅤㅤㅤ“i know that you're shitty and you're bad for me„ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“but i can't stop thinking 'bout it„

simon is not your best option, a man far from ideal, to whom you are drawn like a butterfly — simon ghost riley is a man shrouded in darkness so impenetrable that it poisons, and you, poor butterfly, found yourself drowning there.

it's difficult with simon, he keeps his distance, lurks in the shadows that are behind you, at your distance, but at the same time, he's afraid to allow himself too much.

he never writes a message, never says if he's going to leave the next day for a month long deployment, never lets his thin lips curl to exhale a declaration of love, even if yours — “love you, love you simon„ are ringing constantly in his ears in the form of melodious, breathy chants.

but fuck, he comes back like a mutt, dirty mutt, because he knows that he stains you and everytime ruins you from deep inside and for everyone else, but he can't stop.

and you don't let him.

you let him in again and again, when he's on your doorstep, early in the morning or late at night, even if you're not feeling your best, even if you're busy — you're going to drop everything, you're going to come to him and into his hands, in the hands of the ghost.

but his touch is warm, not ghostly, not penetratingly icy to the very bones — they are tender, warm as he outlines your thin skin, which is covered with goosebumps under the hard, calloused pads of his fingers, descending from your rounded, supple breasts, squeezing, playing with your small, peaky hard nipples.

down, and down, leaving behind tongues of flame that lick around your body, wrapping you in a burningly hot lump that leaves you dizzy, your own hands reaching out in response to touch him back, strip him to the bone — and he grabs your hands, a grip almost capable of bruising your wrists as he presses them into the sheets and smooths them out, growling on a protective level — “keep 'em here, bird"

it's hurts, burns you with both pain and pleasure — eyes welling with clear, crystal tears that ready to shatter, but they still on your lash line when those thick, warm palms slide further down your frail body, tracing the curve of your waist, thick fingers outline the bones of your hips and squeeze, watching the flesh turn pink under his grasp before he trickles down with gentle tickle, just until he curls his hands around your plush thighs.

thighs that will shake when he would part your slick, puffy folds on his fat tongue, licking you and suckling on your throbbing, bulging clit with ferocity, before his tongue will delve deeper, open your clenching, hot and weeping tight hole for him to taste, to drink — your throaty mewls, your sweet juices, your body language.

all of that just so he would disappear when morning sun even didn't have the time to come from under the horizon, you don't know for how long, you don't know if he'll be back this time — all that's left of simon is the scarlet buds on your skin, marking you from neck to toe, and the slowly disappearing warmth on the sheets next to you where he slept earlier.

he always return into shadows, and you always go back after him if he doesn't go back himself, that's what you are, you're his butterfly, he's your trap, but you can't stay away.

not when he does come back after weeks, month even, just so you would call him so sweetly, so familiarly, there's nothing he gives you except of his dirty, bloodied self, but you open your arms for him and chirp, just for him, for simon — “welcome back, si„

not ghost, with you — he can't be this dead version of him.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

🥀 Unwary 🥀

After working on and off for MONTHS and staring at it a long time, here’s the Théodwyn story many of you have heard me agonizing over. I can’t look at it anymore, so we’re just hitting “post”!

It’s called Unwary, which is one of the few words Tolkien gives us to describe Théodwyn’s husband Éomund. He was a “hater of orcs” who often rode against them “in hot anger, unwarily and with few men.” That got him killed and, shortly thereafter, Théodwyn herself died of an illness. This story is my attempt to tie all that together.

Note that Théodwyn’s 3 (canonical but nameless) sisters are here; they came to help after Éomund’s death. You’ll see I gave 2 of them Gondorian names; more explanation of that at the bottom if you’re interested.

There is a fire inside Théodwyn that will not be doused.

It has smoldered for years, just waiting for the breath of air that would coax its glowing embers to life and send a wave of flame racing through her as though she were made not of bone and blood but of kindling and fuel. Now lit by Éomund’s inevitable death, the fire burns bigger and hotter each new day that dawns without him, and it laps at her heart, singeing and charring until there is nothing left but heat. Gone is anything soft and pliant, anything tender or understanding, replaced instead by blistering fury.

She stalks the plains outside of Aldburg in the dark, crunching heavily over glittering, frost encrusted grass. She is trying to outrun that fury, though a fortnight of this new nightly ritual has achieved no such thing so far. But if she cannot leave her anger behind, maybe she can still exhaust it, tire it enough that it can be wrestled into submission and leave her in peace. Deep down, she suspects the effort is in vain, but she has no better plan. She is bereft of ideas, just as she is now bereft of laughter and sympathy and hope. Her husband is just one of many things suddenly missing from her life, and he is not the one she most wants back.

Sweat soaks into both her dress and cloak, and large red blooms form on her cheeks. Each gale of frigid wind catches the dampness at the small of her back or along her hairline beneath her hood, and sends a wave of wracking chills across her heated skin. But her pace never falters despite the passing of long hours and long miles. Over the sound of her boots grinding delicate ice into so many shattered crystals, she mutters her mantra again and again, hissing out the words in time with the rhythm of her steps.

I knew this would happen. I knew this would happen. I knew this would happen.

The night is her time to let this anger out, far away from Éomer and Éowyn, both much too young to be burdened with the knowledge that their dead father was a reckless fool. Someone who couldn’t control his own impetuous need to act and, worse, refused to accept a cautioning hand even from one he professed to honor and cherish. She had begged him not to go, to delay for even a single hour until more men could be gathered to join his small party of riders. But he had been blind, as ever, to anything but his own rash impulses and instincts. He had scoffed at her fears, swept aside her concerns, given bold assurances that weren’t in his power to make. And now he was being hailed as a fallen hero while she was left alone with the consequences of his folly, to manage a tragic loss that she knew to be entirely of his own making.

She hadn’t always felt this way about him. There was a time when she found his passion and spontaneity exciting. Stirring. Romantic. To be the object of his attentions, to be the desire that he would overturn the world to sate, was a special brand of intoxicant, and she drank it in willingly. His quickness to action and his unfailing courage set him apart from other men, and he gained much by risking more than others could stomach. She felt his every gain as her own, and they ran heedless together through the world, two free souls as yet unchecked by the realities of life.

But what felt brave and thrilling and decisive when they were twenty had begun to look much different on the doorstep of forty, when he had already gained more than most men could dream of and only stood now to lose what had been so daringly won. Slowly, creepingly, she began to see his whims as childish, his zealotry as self indulgent. It surprised her every bit as much as him, but somewhere along the way, with age and responsibility and perspective, she became the person who would check him as life never had. The person to ask questions, to say no, to thwart his boldest ambitions and disappoint his most absurd hopes.

Whenever she did, he would look at her as though he looked upon a stranger, an unrecognizable drudge that had stolen the body of his daring and passionate wife. He would look at her as though she had broken faith with him, betraying their bond by choosing to accept that they lived in a world of constraints and limitations. And then she would hate herself, and him, too.

A dull, thudding pain hammers away in the space right behind her eyes, and her muscles and joints ache with every wearied step, calling out for rest. To sit or lay quietly for a while might ease the strain that has increasingly weighed on her body these last few days, the strain of too little sleep, too little food, too little protection from the harsh bite of winter. But she no longer cares for physical ease or comfort. She can endure without them; it has always been the way of the Rohirrim to bear such things without complaint. What she cannot bear is the seething in her mind during moments of stillness, those times of lonely silence while others sleep and she can only gnaw on the bones of her grievances and look with contempt at her memories now tainted by abandonment. And so she stomps through the cold desolation instead, the frozen cloud of her breath drifting along in the wake of a body indulging in the only escape available.

She knows she should be at home in case her children need her, and she knows that her sisters disapprove of how she has been acting. You’ll catch your death out there, says Edlenniel each night as she walks out the door. You need to start taking better care of yourself, clucks Théopryte, a critical eye cast over her increasingly bony figure, her unkempt hair. And this, too, makes her angry, the insistence of her elder sisters on treating her as though she is still a child even now. Nothing she does is ever good enough in their eyes – her home is too untidy, her language too profane, her daughter too much at liberty to run wild rather than learning the ways of respectable girlhood. And now she cannot even grieve correctly.

In truth, she had not expected to mourn this way. The day Éomund rode off, she had imagined her own reaction to the eventual return of his meager company without him. Sorrow, longing, despair, regret – these had been anticipated despite her frustrations. But when Éothain knocked at her door with the news, watery eyes rimmed with red and a battered horse-tailed helmet in hand, she felt none of those things. They vanished in an instant, disappeared from her heart and mind, perhaps never to return. Instead, she became like the cicadas that come to Rohan every dozen years and litter the ground with their delicate molted shells, perfectly formed images of themselves that have been deserted, no longer fit for use and liable to shatter under the slightest of pressures.

Now every interaction, every well-meaning friend or suffering relative, is at risk of being the next target of the dull blade of her anger, always at the ready to hack and slice ineffectually at those who draw her attention and, thus, her scorn. The neighbors who look at her pityingly as they pass by. The men of Éomund’s company who expect her to join them in their grief. Even her sweet son, all knobby knees and gangly elbows, works an inflamed nerve as he swings a sword much too big for him, vowing to protect their house now in his father’s absence. It’s a mother’s job to protect her child, not the other way around, she says to the thin frame and slight shoulders that are not yet grown enough to bear his own charge. You have years left just to be a boy, safe under my care. But it is said through gritted teeth, her tone emotionless, and he doesn’t believe her.

She has enough awareness still to see what she’s become, and though she cannot change it, she knows to try to hide it. She labors each day to be the mother her children need, sitting with them as they cry and holding her tongue when they paint Éomund in their remembrances as a valiant hero, a man to rival all the greatest legends of song. But they know that something isn’t right within her; some voice inside their childlike minds warns them of peril in the one place where they were trained never to expect it. Éomer has stopped asking why she doesn’t cry, and Éowyn now clearly prefers to seek her comfort from Tadiel, whose soft arms, doughy middle and doting indulgence provide what Théodwyn’s sharp, angular body and brittle bearing simply can’t or won’t.

As it inches toward sunrise, she reluctantly turns toward home again, where soon the rest of the household will begin to stir and her absence will be noted, frowned about and tsked over. The judgment of her sisters is no real concern, but she doesn’t want to add to the worries of her children. For them, she will fight to maintain even the barest pretense of normalcy. For her children, she will sit in that house among the remains of Éomund’s life – his belongings, his clothes, his scent – and she will struggle to breathe through the poisonous resentment that is trapped in her throat because she cannot allow it to pass her lips. For her children, she will choke.

The gate comes into view and, beyond it, the garden that she once loved and nurtured into glory, now gone dormant for the winter. She stumbles on the rise to the path, and a knee drives into the frozen ground. She rights herself with difficulty, grunting in the effort, and she curses at this clumsiness. Weakness of body has never been a challenge of hers, and she cannot understand the heavy, dragging feeling that follows her to the door. For the first time, she considers whether everything – the throbbing head, the sweating skin, the screaming joints – is not just a product of exertion but something more serious. Something brought on by the refusal to rest, to eat, to stay warm, to accept comfort and support. It is an unsettling thought, and she tries to push it from her mind as she slips quietly inside.

The frozen sting in her fingertips and toes is a strange counterpoint to the burning heat of her forehead and cheeks, and she collapses into a chair by the fire, waiting out the gradual thaw of her frost-dulled limbs and the eventual return of her body to how it is supposed to feel. But though her fingers slowly lose their bluish tinge and sensation tentatively returns to her feet, the heat in her face and the exhaustion in her muscles only grow. Time ticks by, innumerable minutes that seem like hours, and she can feel it all continue to worsen. What little energy she had now spills from her body like the blood of the stags that Éomund used to hunt, their carcasses sliced open and left to drain. A shiver runs through her, once and then again and again and again, every time stronger until the shivers are full-body spasms that clack her teeth together, threatening to catch her tongue in each jolt. A low, groaning noise fills the room, and she discovers with surprise that it is coming from her own throat.

Good gods, Théodwyn. What have you done to yourself? Edlenniel is in the doorway, and the horrified alarm in her voice is enough to smother the instinct to snap in response. What has she done? She tries to stand, but her legs don’t respond. A strange distance has crept in and inserted itself between the intentions of her mind and the obedience of her body. She wills herself up again and lurches forward with great effort. Is she standing now? She cannot be, not with the cool, smooth stone of the floor somehow pressed to her flushed cheek. She would lift her head to check, but the exhaustion is so heavy that it pins her down, the turning of a screw that secures her, motionless, to wherever she has landed.

Her mind becomes slow and hazy, her sight flickering in and out as though she is passing quickly between rooms that are brightly lit and others that are in total darkness. Théopryte is there and then not. Calls for help are relayed down the hall, and more people rush in. Tadiel pulls Éomer from the doorway, a hand over his eyes as though the sight of his mother is too frightful for him even to look upon. Clamoring, urgent voices echo around inside Théodwyn’s head until they are no longer intelligible to her, just a whirling churn of volumes and tones. She floats, alone and disconnected, in a sea of others’ panic.

A man’s face appears in her field of vision, lifting her up and carrying her to a nearby couch. Théodred? It comes out as a hoarse whisper, and the face shakes its head. No, of course not. Her beloved nephew doesn’t live in Aldburg and never has. A neighbor, then? Or servant? She loses interest before she can unravel the mystery, distracted by a painful new sensation that prickles across the surface of her skin like a thousand small needles. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to exhale the pain with her every labored breath.

Uncounted hours pass, and she is now in her own bed, though she cannot recall being brought there. It takes all her effort just to keep her eyes open, and each time she blinks, it feels like scraping her eyelids over sand. She drifts in and out of lucidity, bobbing in a current of confused thought like a small boat tied up at the edge of a running river. When she’s lost, she is certain she can see Éomund in the corner, watching her in grave silence. When she’s present, she hears bits and snatches of hushed conversation, all in the voices of her sisters. The healer says there is nothing more to be done, says one. Such an awful waste, sniffles another. I knew this would happen, sighs the third. But who could stop her from running herself into the ground this way? She’s always done just what she wanted, no matter how rash or irresponsible.

Amidst all her pains, these words hit her like a blow, and an immediate, convulsive heaving in her stomach has others running for the healer again to manage this fresh symptom of her malady. But she knows it for what it really is: the retching out of unwelcome truth, her body’s rejection of this simple distillation of her fate. Recovery is not coming. She will die here in this bed, and her death will be needless. Pointless. And all the more shameful because she should have known better. She could have heeded the cautions and warnings of others.

Edlenniel leans her over a bowl as she empties herself of what little she’s eaten in the last day, and the bitter taste in her mouth lingers even after she has swirled and spat out many mouthfuls of water. It lingers as she collapses back into the sweat-soaked sheets that cling to every inch of exposed skin. It lingers as her addled mind struggles to reckon with the weight and cost of her mistake, this tragedy of her own making. It will always linger, for all the minutes she has left in the world and for the eternity that stretches out into the boundless, unknown future beyond it.

Her head lolls weakly to one side, and she can see Éomund in the corner still watching, silent and attentive. His face is not impassive, but calm. He accepts what has happened, is happening, will happen, and she must accept it, too. He dissolves into a vague blur as hot tears begin to spill down her cheeks, and whether they are tears for him or for herself, she isn’t sure. When she blinks her eyes clear again, he has moved closer to the bedside. He smiles softly, the wistful look of one who knows what it is to carry the burden of self-blame past any hope of remedy, and he reaches toward her with an open hand. A hand of consolation and invitation.

She will take it, but not yet.

Bring the children, she rasps out.

There is a moment’s debate in the room, furious whispers that drift to her ears. Not something a child should witness, she hears. There may not be time to wait, is the response. She repeats her request, louder this time, and the debate intensifies, rising in pitch and strength. But before the argument can resolve itself, Éomer has pushed in from the hallway, towing little Éowyn by the hand. Her words have reached them on their own.

She struggles to bring her son and daughter into focus, just as they struggle to see the outlines of their strong, capable mother in this frail, spiritless form. She craves nothing more than rest, but she knows she cannot; if she rests now, she will not wake again. She takes each one by the hand, their skin cold and dry against her own clammy fingers and palms, and presses those hands to her lips.

Be good for your uncle, she tells them. Your cousin will love you as a brother.

Éomer, quicker to understand, begins to cry, and his tears trigger Éowyn’s. Soon all three are crying together, for both the first and last time.

You deserve better than this, she should say. I have failed you, she wants to say. But would it give them any comfort to know that she belatedly understands her own mistakes? That left to do it all again, she would guarantee that they would never be without their mother? What can she tell them now that will help and not hurt, that will be a gift and not a hindrance? She swallows hard, and it is like swallowing gravel. Your father and I did the best we could, she whispers. The two of you will do better, and we will be proud.

She drops back to the pillow, exhausted beyond measure, and someone bundles the children back out into the hall again. Éomund smiles at her, and she nods. Her eyes drift closed as his hand wraps around hers, and the burning in her heart and skin slowly fades, the fire extinguished at last.

A note on the sisters of Théoden: Their father, Thengel, ran away to Gondor as a young man and lived there for a huge chunk of his life. He married Morwen, a Gondorian woman, and Tolkien tells us he only went back to Rohan “unwillingly” to take up the throne after his own father died. 2 of his daughters and his son were born in Gondor before that happened, and my HC is that all 3 of them had Gondorian names because, at the time, Thengel never had any intention of ever going back. So that gives us Edlenniel (“daughter of the exile,” since that’s how he saw himself) and Tadiel (“second daughter,” so overshadowed by her siblings that Thengel couldn’t be bothered to even give her an interesting name).

Théoden himself had a Gondorian name as well (Arnhereg, “royal blood”) but he changed it to something Rohirric (Théoden means “leader of the people”) when the family went back to Rohan both because he wanted to fit in better and because it seemed only appropriate that the future king of Rohan have a Rohirric name. Then when the other two sisters were born in Rohan, they were given Rohirric names as well (Théopryte, “pride of the people,” who was extremely beautiful; and Théodwyn, “joy of the people,” who was full of spirit).

3 of the 4 sisters were dead by the time of the War of the Ring (Edlenniel from old age, Théopryte from an accident, and Théodwyn as described here), and Tadiel had gone back to Gondor. Edlenniel never had any children and Tadiel and Théopryte had only daughters, which is why we don’t hear anything about other cousins that might have competed with Éomer for the throne after Théodred’s death. I’ve made a backstory for each of the sisters, but no use putting that all here since I’ve already gone on too long!

(Dividers by the wonderful @quillofspirit !)

[makan-feelins]

*"The Heartbeat of the Invisible"**

There is a dawn that does not rise on the horizon, but in the quiet crevices of the chest, where light is born from unanswered questions and silences that cradle ancient truths. There, in the secret garden of the soul, vines of wonder grow: they climb the walls of routine, cling to stones of oblivion, and bloom into petals of colors only closed eyes can see. Each flower is a moment stolen from time, a sigh that becomes eternity.

Love is not merely a name but the wind that stirs those flowers. It is an underground stream drunk by the roots of all that is lived. It slips through the cracks of wounds, turning scars into maps of lost constellations. To love is to find in another the echo of your own ocean, where waves are verses never written but sung in the mute language of glances. It is the discovery that in every molecule of the universe beats the same mystery: an atom of your laughter lives in the bark of trees; a particle of your pain travels in the dust of dead stars.

Illusion is the fire that does not burn, the flame that dances in pupils when life becomes a tale whispered into night’s ear. They are crumbs of light left behind as we keep dreaming, even when dreams dress in winter. Illusions are cotton seeds: fragile, yet capable of weaving entire clouds to cushion the sky of gray days.

And laughter… Those crystal bells that shatter mirrors of solemnity. They are echoes of a language older than fear, stray notes of a symphony the gods forgot on earth. When we laugh, the soul plucks imaginary daisies and asks: *Do you love me? Do you love me? Do you love me?* And the universe, instead of answering, fills our mouths with northern lights.

The soul’s pleasures are unhurried. They are like honey spilled in slow motion: the scent of first coffee in the rain, the complicity of a book that reads us as we read it, the moment music turns us into its instrument. They are small, sacred rituals, offerings to the temple of the mundane.

But above all—always above all—there is a love too vast for pronouns. A love that is verb and sustenance, root and fruit. It is loving the crunch of dry leaves underfoot, the sob of a violin in an empty corner, the shadow a cypress gifts to a graveyard. To love until the heart learns to beat in plural, until the "I" dissolves into a thousand shards of clay and recognizes its earth in rivers, in strangers’ faces, in the flight of a hummingbird sipping nectar from the ephemeral.

In the end, when night veils the clocks, only the echo remains—of having lived with veins open to wonder. For the inner life is not told: it is sown, sung, wept, and burned. And in its ashes, new questions always sprout, dressed in hope.

[unhappy-last-resort]

Zayne Angst Drabble

Fandom: Love & Deepspace

Warnings: Potential murder (of you), dissociation, implied suicide

A/N: @yandere-yearnings @sabotsen mwah love you♥ there is worse to come

Cold.

You know, he always thinks of summer when it comes to you. Bright colors, soft petals, and coarse grass are what weaved in between the atoms that held you together. Sweet fragrances and whispered dew that hid in the crooks of your neck as you stretched your fingers to the sky as if you could touch it—

Red.

Like a flame, like a fire burning in the hearth, bringing warmth to all in its presence. That was what you are. Warm and gentle, a place he can nestle his weary body and rest in your comfort and protection. Even if—

Ice.

Even if the cold tries to seep in, creeping through cracks and breaking the wood, he has you. His flame, his summer, his light, his love. He has you. He will wake up to you each time, after every nightmare, after every freeze and wrap yourself around him, let him drown in your fragrance until the last crystal shatters so he can gain the strength to leave you each morning, so he can pass your warmth on to the sick and dying.

Cold.

Summer has no cold and neither do his memories of you, all sparkling eyes, wide smiles, and giddy giggles. There is no cold in the flowers he tucked behind your ear. Did you know his favorite thing to do, was watch how the sun hit your iris'? Little ripples reflecting the brilliant hue of your eyes. Only the most precious gems in the universe were used to craft those eyes he loved so much. He was certain.

Stones gifted to him and him alone, crystals that shone only for him, only for him, only…

Only.

Only they don't glitter like they normally do, summer does not bloom beneath your skin, and memories do not warm like a hearth stoked full.

Only—

Cold.

Yes, there is only cold.

And the cold is from him. And the red paints his skin. And the ice burns his fingers.

There is remnants of summer on his tongue, broken petals dot the sheets you shared with him…

And you are cold.

And soon the ice will make him cold too.

Wait for me.

[slugterra-twisted-ends]

More fanon slugs to add to the roster!

Coramed (Earth Element): Healer slug that uses rubbing salts as both healing and attack

Flenus Trap (Plant Element): Captures opponents in its maw to drain them of their energy using its saliva

Shuriji (Metal Element): Shapes metal from its body into ninja throwing stars

Urfence (Earth Element): Uses its crystal like body to create large shields, with some very experienced Urfences creating towers and bastions

Coalech (Fire Element): Uses rocks and other loose materials to create a source for its fire to burn. It will then shoot out that flaming mass as an attack. Better the material, the greater the power

Startas (Air Element): When it morphs, it has a pincer. It can then click that pincer to make an ear shattering sound (based on the Mantis Shrimp!)

[beaniebitch01]

RANT!!!

*This will contain spoilers for Sonic Prime*

So I watched this show once before but held off writing my thoughts on it until I re-watched it cause on first watch I'm not really thinking of the show in a critical manner so it'd just be a disjointed string of random thoughts I had. It's also because any grievances I had may not have been fair when you consider the target audience this show was made for. So with that in mind I re-watched it and can now make a (hopefully) fair review of it.

I'm gonna start with what I thought was bad because considering it's a 3 season series I don't have a lot of complaints so I'll just get them out first.

1)The villains were dumb like what purpose does 5 eggmans serve besides obnoxious arguing. It would've been much more interesting if each world had its own version of eggman. Even the baby would've been a funny character if it was the sole villain for one of the worlds. 2)The fight scenes were repetitive. 3)Dialogue was actually painful sometimes, but this was made in an age where people for some reason think kids can't comprehend real conversations so they insert dumb quips. 4)*shudders*The Baby™. As sonic said in season two, "how can one baby be so hateable". Never in my life have I wanted to punch a character so bad. Every time it was on screen I felt a burning flame of hatred in my soul. 5)The ending, especially the last few episodes, went back and forth between Sonic trying to convince Nine to stop and the same fighting sequences and it got so annoying i thought about fast forwarding to the end. The stakes never felt high or low, they felt the same for all 7 episodes.

The good:

1)Shadow!!! He's in a show for more than a few episodes!!! Bro is always angry but honestly if I had to deal with sonics shenanigans I'd be perpetually annoyed too. 2)It was pretty well paced. Season one introduced all of the alternate worlds, season two had sonic switching between those worlds trying to get all of the crystals back and revealed a twist villain, season three was the fight against that villain and restoring the shatter space. 3)Considering the other shows we have, the animation wasn't bad, but could've been better. Especially when Netflix has come out with stuff like Arcane whose animation was incredible. 4)The plot was cohesive. 5)Good twist villain. Even though you can see it coming from the first episode of the first season, Nine still made for a good villain. 6)I was surprised to see actual character growth. Sonic's was inevitable since his carelessness got them into the situation they're in. Nine's character changed with each season, starting with being untrusting and guarded in the first, calming down in season two and actually caring about Sonic's wellbeing, feeling betrayed and angry in season three and then finally realizing he done goofed and Sonic was always his friend. 7)I really like that the one common thing from all worlds is the one palm tree. This feels like a weird thing to comment on but I just found it sweet for some reason.

Overall I really enjoyed the show and def recommend it.

[climbthemountain2020]

Flame of Autumn - Prologue

I am so excited to finally be posting this! Ch. 1/25

Find this also on Ao3

Biggest thanks to @thesistersarcheron and @azrielshadowssing for being my beta readers for this chapter forever ago! You're both wonderful!

[523 Years Ago] 

He was running, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest and breath crystallizing in the cold air in front of him. The leaves blurred into a tunnel of reds and oranges around him, but he refused to stop. He was young, but he knew these woods like he knew his own mind. He could run for miles–for days–but he knew in the end it wouldn't matter. There wasn’t anywhere he could go where he would be safe. 

He stumbled through his sprinting steps, winnowing blindly a few hundred yards every so often. His lungs were burning, his knees felt close to shattering. He tried to push back against it, but his small body forced him to stop, the pain becoming overwhelming. He braced his hands on his knees while he willed his racing heart to calm. The tears on his face were turning cold as they dried, and the blood had become crisp on his tunic. He shifted uncomfortably at the ache across his ribs, feeling more blood eek out to drip down his side. He pushed his hand to it, wincing at the pain freely now that he was alone. 

The trees here were old—older than recorded history, at least—and the bark peeled off in thick, ragged strips in this perpetual autumn. Time-smoothed stones dotted the ground, covered in soft moss and occasionally interrupted by ancient tree roots the size of small horses. 

The boy pushed a crimson curl out of his eyes, flinching once more at the deep pain in his side. It was deeper than his healing capabilities would be able to fix, just like his father had intended. He’d have to bind it when he returned to the Forest House, but he wouldn’t hurry. He’d already gone too far, and his absence would be noticed. It was likely not the final wound he would receive today. 

He sagged to the ground at the base of one of the old trees, allowing himself to ease back into the curved base and forcing his body to relax. 

This is your fault. The thought was in his head, but it was the voice of his father that clanged around his skull. 

Failure. Wretch. Weak. He furiously wiped at the tears pouring from him. 

Crying is for the feeble. Is that what you are, Eris? He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes so hard he saw bursts of light behind them. 

A flash of red in the distant woods caught his eye. Surely, they hadn’t been able to find him out here? He shot up as quickly as his injured ribs would allow and raced behind the tree, trying desperately to calm his breathing. The quietest notes of a song made their way to him as he peaked around the other side. 

In the clearing ahead was a girl, no older than he was. She crawled up on a decrepit stone wall that circled what looked like an ancient cemetery. The stones within were weathered well beyond translation, and the walls around it were crumbling. 

The first thing he noticed about the young girl was the bright shock of red hair that topped her head. It was tucked up loosely in a braided knot, tendrils falling loosely about her face, and it made her look as though she belonged there amongst the colorful autumn leaves. Her clothes were nice, tailored, likely the mark of a noble family, which begged the question of what she was doing all the way out here. He knew they were far enough from civilization that she would not have wandered here accidentally. 

Did she know of this spot? Was she running from something, too? 

Her humming filled the small clearing as he quietly ran forward, tree to tree, to get closer. She danced on feather-light feet along the crumbling wall, and now that he was closer, he could see her pale skin was dotted with freckles like constellations of russet stars. As he reached the closest tree to the clearing and looked around it, her humming turned to a quiet song. She sang so low it could have been a whisper, but her voice was lilting and melodic, the tune haunting. 

Through the groves of apple trees

A maiden fell upon her knees

To beg the Mother in skies above 

To send her visions of her true love 

‘I'll send you, girl, a knight so fair

With speckled skin and fire-kissed hair. 

But so deep a sadness lies within

Underneath his scarred skin’ 

But Mother, then, what will I do?

To entice him with a love so true? 

‘To crack the cold, and broken heart mend

First you must become a friend

How will I warm the cold around

His wounded heart so tightly bound?

‘You'll use your fire, warm and bright

And together walk into the light’

He was entranced by her. So much so that, when her toe caught an errant stone in the wall and she tripped, he shot forward almost as if to catch her. His eyes played tricks on him for his folly, as he watched a hole of flames erupt from the sky above, dispensing the girl through it to fall back down to the very wall he’d just watched her fall off of. 

He’d foolishly shot out from the protection of the trees when she fell, and that’s where she saw him now, hand still outstretched in an attempt to stop her, catch her, somehow. He saw her eyes, the most beautifully stunning hazel, register his presence and widen, her mouth forming an “O” in shock. 

“Wait, please don’t go,” He blurted, arm stretched towards her in a pleading arc, surprising even himself. But she’d already slipped through another flaming portal, and this time she did not reappear.

[magixfairyix]

Trix Week Day 4 (Spell Gone Wrong)

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I was really exited to share this one. Also because I missed yesterday's prompt (as I decided to draw against my better judgement something for the AU Cannon Divergent Prompt).

TW: Major character death(s), mild ideations of suicide

@bellatrixobsessed1 @trixweek

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Darcy let out a shrill scream that tore open her throat, her sharp nails digging into her palms as she stared down at the two bodies in front of her. Not quite bodies. They were still alive, but comatose. 

She felt tears fall down her eyes in the constant current as her knees dug into the ground, sobs ripping open her chest. Usually, she hated the feeling of crying—of being vulnerable—but she didn’t care now. She was shaking and was trying to get air in at this point.

She did this.

Just like she cursed her planet when Liliss gave her too much dark magic for her body to hold on its own; how all the people around her as a child fell down to the grass, eyes open and breathing but not moving as if they were dead.

She broke their minds.

“No no no no,” Darcy said hoarsely, choking on a sob as she put her fingers to Icy’s pulse point. She still had a pulse, she still had a pulse, she wasn’t dead, she wasn’t dead. In a hurry, she moved over to Stormy and did the same thing. “Please. Please no…”

Her voice sounded broken and pathetic to her. Hell, she was a witch, but these two witches were—are—her sisters, her friends, and her family. The one family she had promised that she wasn’t going to mess up again.

“Please…”

Darcy saw the stains of her tears on the dark floor of their dorm room, well, as much as she could through how blurry her eyes were through the newer tears that were constantly re-emerging in a painful cycle. She’d been having nightmares for the past week, and her two sisters woke her up in the middle of an exceptionally painful one.

Now they won't wake up…

Darcy got up with a glare and stepped towards the chest of drawers next to her bed, eyes full of fury and pain. Inside the top drawer, buried under clothes, was her Whisperian Crystal. She had to do this, and if it got rid of all her magic—she wasn’t sure—then it would make this even better.

She glanced at Icy and Stormy before letting out a shrill scream, throwing the crystal against the wall. Darcy didn’t want this; she didn’t want a connection to the Ancestors or anything that tied her to them. She wanted her sisters.

The artifact shattered like glass, violet shards falling against the ground with a clatter. Other witches in the next few dorms would be wondering what was going on, but not enough to come into the dorm of the three witches without permission.

First, it came like a hand cutting off her breathing.

Darcy let out a choked noise as her hand shot to her throat, trying to suck in air. Her knees hit the ground again and she tried to get rid of the panic at not knowing what was going on. That would make things worse, and she knew it.

Her lungs burned for oxygen.

Then, Darcy felt a familiar aura of dark magic.

She clenched her eyes shut, tears leaking out and falling down her cheeks.

“You will still get the Dragon Flame.”

She could feel that Liliss was behind her, or at the very least, the ghost of her. The three of them were still trapped in Obsidian, but due to their connection, it was easy enough—much to Darcy’s annoyance—for them to project both themselves and their spells if any orders had to be given out.

“No…” Darcy said weakly and shallowly.

Would Liliss kill her?

She could feel a presence in her mind, and even in her pained and breathless state, she could relatively pinpoint it. Somewhere in the amygdala, she was sure. But her heart was still beating, so Liliss must’ve cut off a certain part of it.

Only to her lungs.

Liliss’ flickering form stilled. “There is no choice.”

“But… my… sisters…”

“Can stay here as bodies,” Liliss said emotionlessly. “It was your mistake that—”

“Magic Winx!”

Darcy felt Liliss leave the room and she heaved in a painful breath, shaking as whatever mental manipulation the Ancestor used left her mind. She let out a pained noise as she collapsed over herself, palms pressing into the ground, sobs shaking her trembling body.

She heard three pairs of footsteps run into the room before stopping, and some mumbles between the three fairies that barely reached her ears. It was it her mind was clouded by the agony she felt, and the thought that her sisters would stay like this.

“Is….?”

“So do we still…?”

There was a silent pause among them.

“No. Let’s… go back to Alfea.”

“But they stole—”

“I’ll…” A sigh. “I’ll stay for a minute.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Stella, it’s fine.”

Two of the people slowly walked out of the room, their footsteps trailing behind them. One of them didn’t leave, and that annoyed the witch. She would’ve preferred if the three attacked her to end this entire thing, or if all three of them left so that they couldn’t see how she was biting her lip to the point of drawing blood to bury the sob choking up her body.

Someone knelt down next to her hesitantly.

“Kill me…”

“... no.”

“You’re my balance, so kill me. Finish the job or whatever…”

“I’m not going to just—”

“So you’re weak, then?”

A pause.

“Just do it.”

More silence.

The person stood up.

“Please…”

Soft footsteps as she walked away.

Out of the dorm.

Darcy tasted tears and the blood from her lips; salty and metallic.

“...”

“... please.”

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And YES I had to give my oc a little cameo. XD She's the one Darcy is talking to at the very end.

Lol yeah... Darcy went through it for this prompt.

[ser3nityst4r]

Tenth Evil

The mist flowed with the scent of magic, a tangible force that pressed heavily on everyone in the Heartslabyul dorm. Riddle Rosehearts, the usually stoic and unyielding dorm leader, was a whirlwind of fury, his face contorted in a mask of rage. His signature spell, 'Off with your head!', had failed, a truth that hit him like a brick.

Trey Clover, Riddle's childhood friend and vice dorm leader, had intervened, his magic a shield against Riddle's outburst. Trey, ever the calming presence, had used his signature spell, 'Paint the Roses,' to overwrite Riddle's destructive intent, protecting Grim, the mischievous cat-like creature, and the terrified Heartslabyul students.

“Ha! Trey's magic overwrote Riddle's!” Grim crowed, his small body swaying with barely contained glee. His laughter died abruptly in his throat as the realization dawned upon the Heartslabyul students. Their dorm leader, the one who held their loyalty and fear in equal measure, had actually intended to harm them. 

Riddle tried again and again and again continuously, “'What?” Riddle’s voice shattered the tense silence, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sent shivers down everyone’s spines. “Was my magic overwritten by yours? Does that mean your signature spell is stronger than mine?!”

Trey, ever cautious of Riddle's volatile state, chose his words carefully, “Of course it doesn’t, Riddle. Take a deep breath and listen to us.” His fingertips still glowed with a blush of green, ready to summon spells just in case Riddle attempts to harm someone again.

Riddle’s anger escalated, his voice cracking with a raw, frustrated despair. “Are YOU going to tell me that I’m wrong too? After all I’ve done to protect the rule of law?! Do you know how much I’ve suffered for this?! I… I refuse to believe this!” His magic pen glowed crimson red, same shade as the roses that were once surrounding the dorm.

The air grew heavy with a sense of impending doom. Yuu, the silent observer in the heart of this storm, felt a cold dread grip their heart. The situation was spiraling out of control, and they sensed a desperate need to intervene.

'Cease this nonsense immediately, Mr. Rosehearts!' Crowley, the Headmaster, thundered, his voice echoing through the halls. 'Any further attempt to use magic will leave your magestone completely tainted with blot!'

The threat of blot, a magical ailment that could corrupt a user's magical core, was usually enough to quell even the most rebellious student. But Riddle seemed to have crossed a line, his mind clouded by an unshakable conviction. His magic pen’s once radiating vermillion was now dimming, a sign that the crystal is almost filled with blot.

'But... I'm right! I'M the one who's right! There is NO! POSSIBLE! ALTERNATIVE!' Riddle’s voice rose in a crescendo, his eyes burning with a terrifying, almost fanatical zeal.

And with that, the unspoken tension finally burst into chaos.

Riddle's magic, fueled by an unyielding belief in his own righteousness, erupted in a torrent of uncontrollable power. The very air crackled with vibrant ruby energy, swirling around Riddle as he launched a series of spells, each one aimed at Trey, Grim, and the Heartslabyul students.

Trey, however, stood firm. His own magic, a tapestry of calming colors and soothing whispers, countered every attack, creating a protective barrier around them. Grim, his playful demeanor replaced with a panicked meow, clung to Yuu, his small body trembling and blue flames wavering.

The other students, their faces pale with fear, huddled together, their eyes wide with terror as they witnessed the terrifying display of raw magic being exchanged so quick that all their eyes could process was the mix of scarlet and verdant swirling around, aiming to overpower the other.

Crowley, his usually friendly countenance etched with worry, rushed forward, his voice booming with authority. “Riddle! You must cease this madness! Your actions are endangering everyone!”

But Riddle was lost in his own world, a world where his warped sense of justice was the only truth, where his own pain and suffering justified any means to maintain the “rule of law.” 

The Heartslabyul dorm, once a place of order and discipline, was now a battlefield, a testament to the destructive power of an unchecked belief and the fragility of friendship in the face of unwavering conviction. As the thrones grew and expanded, Yuu knew that this was only the beginning. A deep, unsettling truth had revealed itself, and they knew, with a sinking feeling, that the consequences would be far-reaching and profound. The game had changed, and the stakes were higher than anyone could have imagined. Splat Splat Splat

[myreia]

FEBHYURARY XXI: SEASON

In winter, an encounter.

He finds her. Or she finds him. Stumbling her way through the back alleys of the Brume, lugging a greatsword twice her size—Fray’s greatsword—on her back. He is furious with her then, this stranger who burst into his and Rielle’s lives unwanted and unasked, dragging the asinine politics of Ishgard—and the weight of the world—with her. She claims to be a mage, yet cannot spark a whiff of magic. Until her rage takes her. Until she gives herself to the Abyss. Then it comes surging out of her, setting her blade—that blade, cursed blade, holding so many memories—aflame with violet violence. The all-consuming depths of fury and wrath burning, burning, burning, and yet at its core, a gentle warmth. A tender flame. She loves as deeply as she has been hurt, and she is the last to recognize it. This time with her is short. Brief. A moment crystalized in the Coerthan snows. When it is over and she is gone, ascending to the heights of the Pillars with her Scions and her High Houses and whatever other political machinations she has gotten herself involved in, he knows he may never see her again. He wishes he would. For Rielle’s sake, of course.

In spring, a reunion.

It has not been that long. Her hair is longer now, growing out from the shorn cut she told him she gave herself. He does not ask about Ishgard. He does not ask about the Lord Commander, her apparent paramour. Her life has moved on, higher and higher, and the stories he hears of her feel distant from the person he knows her as. They take Rielle to Gridania, soaking in the spring sun and the loamy scent of new growth. In her company, Rielle is happier than he has ever seen her. He is thankful.

In summer, a journey.

It has been two years since he saw her last. She is different now—the fury and the rage diminished to weary numbness. The red streaks have returned to her hair, she is no longer dyeing it. Perhaps she no longer feels the need to hide, to meet the expectations set on her. She is more honest, more raw… He fears something has happened. Something she will not speak of. She puts on a brave face, but inside she is as broken as her shattered soul crystal. As they traverse the scorching russet landscape of Gyr Abania, he wonders how much of this is an escape for her. An escape from her duties, an escape from her role. The further they go, the more she opens up, telling him things in confidence she has not shared with any other. It is on an achingly normal day when the realization hits. A stop by the river, where they set their blades aside and strip down to their underthings to enjoy the cool, refreshing water. As he sits on the bank, pale skin burning in the hot sun, and she looks back at him with that gentle smile… Ah, shit.

In autumn, love.

It starts in an inn on the road to Coerthas. Rielle tucked away for an early night, the pair of them retiring to his room after one too many dark looks from the other patrons. Two dark knights in the darkest corner of the tavern were bound to attract attention. Perhaps drink is to blame for their actions, perhaps not—that first night is a blur of many things unsaid coming to fruition—regardless, the end result is the same. Love that blazes darker than the abyss in their hearts. It’s a poor decision on both their parts. This thing between them—the seed for it sown years ago in bloodstained snows, only to bloom now at the worst possible time—is precious and fragile and must needs be sheltered from the tempest of her life. She is torn in so many directions—Alliance, Scions, Garlemald, friends, allies, enemies, all devouring pieces of her until there is nothing left. He swears he will not place those demands on her. He has become the eye of the hurricane, the calm before the storm. It’s the least he can give her. This happiness is not forever. They know they must relinquish it when they reach their destination. For everything there is a season. And for every season—as certain as the falling leaves—there comes an end.

[misteria247]

It was almost like a dream, what he was experiencing. Or rather a nightmare that refused to leave him be. Fiddleford hadn't said a word since he and the group of rebels had made their big escape. Instead staring at his hands, now covered in bloodied burns, that would definitely scar.

He could barely feel the pain, too numb from the horrors he'd just witnessed.

He could hear Ford and Stan talking quietly. Their voices wavering as they tried to keep their turmoil from leaking out. Fiddleford couldn't make out the words, a buzzing loud in his head. Only replaying the scene that took the life out of him.

A bubble, fragile and precious consumed in cosmic blue flames. A laugh, wicked and cruel , rang out as he desperately tried to put them out. Flames and burning flesh be damned, not mattering when the bubble was reduced to ashes. Staining his palms and burns.

It was almost like he wasn't even in his body. Just a spectator forced to watch and afraid to interact with the world around him. Knowing that doing so would force him to face a truth he couldn't grasp. In a daze he followed the group making it back to the shack. The only protection they all had. He didn't bother saying a word, ignoring Mabel and Dipper as he stumbled on his room. Muffled voices of the older Pines ushering the children in another room to talk fading behind as he closed the door. Fidds leaned against the door, expression neutral and gaze thousands of miles away.

His foot moved slightly, knocking into something. Looking down, he saw the left behind welding mask of Pacifica on the ground. Suddenly, the room was cold, the blood in his veins ice as he noticed everything.

Tate's coffee cup, Paz's little jewelry making station, their book shelf with Tate and Pacifica's favorite books. The static noise in his head was shattered by a wail.

Mabel's voice, full of grief and anguish, filled the air. Broken sobbing and screaming. Dipper's voice filled with denial and rage, demanding and begging for it to be a joke. It was this that made the world crystal clear.

Tate and Pacifica were gone.

His son and daughter were never coming back.

Something broke once it was clear, and Fiddleford snapped. With a primal, destroyed scream of rage and agony, the inventor went off the rails. Plates, books, inventions, anything within reach was tossed or thrown or broken. Completely trivial to the despair that consumed him.

His children, his babies, gone. Burned in blue hellish flames while a monster laughed.

And he had failed them.

He had failed his family. In the blink of an eye, the stars that once shined in his dark night skies had exploded in a firey, blazing death. Never to shine again. The old man didn't keep track of time, instead destroying the room before him. Anything to stop the endless grief and turmoil that drowned him.

That was how Ford had found him later. On the floor, surrounded by debris and broken items. Staring blankly ahead, eyes red and flowing with endless tears.

The face of a man broken.

[mist-touchedxiv]

He had to have died. Though, what sins he'd committed to have warranted this trip to the abyss was beyond the Wood-warder.

A cough and the acrid burn of smoke grated across his throat brought him to the present. No. Not dead. But that wasn't a comfort.

Loksen's vision swam back into focus as he half-heartedly shield his face from nightmare heat of an unnatural blue fire that engulfed the market. The cough turned into a retch as another smell reached him: cooked meat.

With surprising alacrity for how godsawful he felt he sat up as his stomach lurched and the horrible burn of smoke in his throat met bile and the terribly pleasant remnants of berries and the copper taste of blood.

Wiping his mouth of the vomit, he dragged himself to his feet, his body protesting quietly the whole way.

The lucky dead (bangaa, Hyur and worst of all, Viera) strewn about in pieces and undefineable masses around the former market, the desert afternoon made dark by an impenetrable black smoke of midnight absurdly lit with the cerulean flames of Garlean destruction.

He remembered the agony of checking every Viera and other for signs of life to no avail. But, he found his attention seemingly guided down a small alley strewn with debris and the detritus of the lives of several pe-

He pushed the thought down, trying to center himself as he stumbled down an impossibly labyrinthine alley. The miles of burning urban hellscape soon gave implausibly a wide shallow stream, surrounded by an infinite darkness. He could feel the cool water sloshing at his knees, but he didn't clock the incongruity. Something. SomeONE had caught his attention. Pristine, beautiful in the knee deep water.

Fruitlessly, he waded through the water trying to close the distance but the crystal clear water was like quicksand.

Soon, the figure was slowly engulfed in the cerulean flames of Rabanastre and his pain intensified as if his very skin was slowly being stripped off his body and he cried.

"Loki... Rakas..." came an achingly beautiful voice from the burning Viera woman.

A psyche shattering primal scream of sorrow tore him asunder with sanity shredding pain.

He awoke with a gasp, his face soaked with sweat and silent tears and sat up with a start. As the drowsiness gave way to consciousness the world around him came into focus slowly.

The smell of sea salt was soon joined by calming rumble of ocean waves and the call of seabirds. Instinctively, he touched the raised scar tissue on the back of neck, a reminder of time past.

Taking several deep breathes to calm himself, he allowed the calming seabreeze coming from the gently undulating curtains of a nearby open window. A sleepy feminine murmur and the surprisingly gently touch of a large slender hand reassuringly gripped his bare inner thigh.

"Loki... you okay..." Merylwyb inquired sleepily into her pillow.